My 4 Plus 1 Things
by Ana of Asgard
Summary: Fic 1: 4 Times an Avenger Didn't Kill Loki, and 1 Time One of Them Did.(Complete) Fic 2: 4 Times Loki Didn't Break Down and Cry, and 1 Time He did. (Complete) Fic 3: 3 Times Loki Forgot Wanda was a Kid, and 1 Time He Didn't.(In-Progress)
1. 4 Times An Avenger Didn't Kill Loki

**4 TIMES AN AVENGER DIDN'T KILL LOKI, AND 1 TIME ONE OF THEM DID**

 **Word Count: 16k+**

 **Trigger Warnings: Mentions of suicide, rape, and words that would make Steve say, "Language, Ana."**

 **Characters (in order of appearance): Loki, Natasha Romanoff, Pepper Potts, Tony Stark, Laura Barton, Lila Barton, Cooper Barton, Clint Barton, Jane Foster, Thor, Wanda Maximoff, Steve Rogers.**

 **Status: Complete**

 **—**

 **I. Natasha**

Natasha felt the gentle pull of teleportation while she was dancing.

It was a rare, unusual sight, seeing the infamous Black Widow dancing, and there was much that many would've given to see it.

And who wouldn't want to? The beautiful, redheaded woman was scantily clothed in a pair of small, tight shorts that failed to hide her long, supple legs and tight buttocks, and the sports bra she was wearing would have most men drooling. The movements of her curvaceous, lithe body were graceful and precise.

But Natasha didn't want anyone seeing. To her, it was a moment of weakness, an uncharacteristically feminine thing that didn't suit the remorseless assassin at all. Yet in the Red Room, she'd been taught ballet, and there were moments when only dancing eased the stress out of her tensed muscles.

So she danced in the dark, curtains drawn with lights turned off. The music was set as low as possible, and all that could be heard from it was a low, pleasing, melodic murmur.

The Black Widow closed her eyes, letting memory and instinct take over her muscles as she swayed and glided across the floor, losing herself in the serenity of the moment.

Of course, it was serene until Natasha felt the tug of teleportation.

Grumbling to herself, Natasha felt for the switch and snapped on the light, guessing she had about thirty seconds before she was whisked away to wherever Loki was bringing her.

The first visit had been alarming. Loki had visited her, then, in a projection of himself. SHIELD had been immediately notified, all the top gunmen surrounded the two of them, and a helicopter hovered above Loki's projection.

Loki had seemed rather amused by the whole ordeal. He hadn't said much, and disappeared after a couple of minutes.

The next visit was much the same. By the third, SHIELD had started getting tired of assembling everything and rushing over to them. By the sixth, Natasha had simply stopped notifying SHIELD.

What exactly was Loki doing there? Natasha couldn't answer that. Loki would chat with her about the most absurdly ordinary things, as though they were old friends. Of course, it could be an attempt at manipulation. Natasha kept herself on high alert and with senses tuned.

By now, Natasha had pretty much lost track how many times they met. Loki had gotten tired of appearing to her, and just teleported her to him in a grassy field atop a cliff that overlooked a raging waterfall and frothy waters.

Where am I? Natasha had asked once. Loki had smirked in reply. Nowhere you would now, he would answer. On a different world entirely, actually.

Loki, though, was always an illusion. She couldn't touch him, nor could he touch her. Natasha wasn't terribly afraid but she wasn't a fool either, and was on her guard.

Now, Natasha glanced down at the revealing clothing she was wearing. It was fine—nothing Loki hadn't seen before. There was one time he'd teleported her while she was in the shower, and after taking one look at her Loki had instantly teleported her back.

She closed her eyes lightly, and when she opened them, she was up on the familiar isolation cliff, staring at Loki's face.

—

All Loki needed to do was to get someone to kill him.

It shouldn't be so hard, right? After all, dozens of people had attempted to before. Now, he just needed to let them.

The Chitauri's rules were unfairly specific. Loki couldn't kill himself, which would have been the preferable option. He couldn't die of an 'accident', which had been Loki's second option. No, someone else entirely had to kill him.

If Loki didn't die, then the entire universe was going to wiped out.

Loki's reasoning was, he was going to die either way. Why not save at least Frigga's life in the process? If Frigga didn't exist, then Loki would've carelessly let all life die with him. At least, that's what he convinced himself.

The Chitauri desired his death. If they didn't get it, they would wage war on the Nine Realms. So the fate of the universe was basically in Loki's untrustworthy hands.

Loki sighed. He wasn't allowed to explain why he had to die either to anyone, and that made everything a whole lot harder. He'd planned to just tell one of the Avengers everything, and Loki was sure they'd only be too happy to oblige him.

The plan he had now wasn't foolproof, but so far, it was the best he got. The Black Widow was going to kill him.

She wouldn't simply do it just because, since the mortals had an annoying sense of honor. Romanoff had less honor than most, but Loki was unwilling to beg the assassin to slaughter him where he stood.

No, Loki was going to trick her into killing him.

Everything was elaborately set up. The target, the knives in his hand. For once, Loki had actually appeared instead of using an illusion. But Romanoff wouldn't know that.

Waving his gloved hands lightly just for show, he summoned Natasha Romanoff.

She appeared across from him, next to the target, swirling blue-green eyes taking in everything. She was barely clad, but the calm dread he felt at the prospect of dying kept Loki's eyes was wandering.

"Practicing?" she asked nonchalantly. Loki answered with a brusque nod.

He flicked his wrist, and a solid knife materialized in her hand as well. "Do you want to practice?"

"Why not?" said Romanoff, getting the feel of her new throwing knife. "I'll give it a whirl."

Loki needed her to throw the knife at him, not the target. She didn't know that Loki was actually here in person, but by then it'll be too late. He would have just told her to throw the knife at him, but Loki wasn't sure if sentiment would get the better of her at the last minute.

Subtly turning the knife in his hand into an illusion, Loki threw it at Natasha. It passed through her body harmlessly, and had the knife been real, it would've been a killing shot. Loki smirked, goading her on. He tipped his head, poisonous green eyes inviting a challenge, as though saying, Can you throw better than me?

Natasha met his unspoken challenge with an arch of an elegant eyebrow. Gripping the handle of the knife tightly in her hands, she took aim.

Loki took a deep breath.

The Black Widow threw the knife at Loki, the brilliant silver blade flashing in the sunlight. He closed his eyes, waiting, anticipating, dreading the killing blow.

It never came.

Loki opened his eyes in confusion, and felt the tiniest sting as the edge of the knife skimmed his ear. Other than that small cut, Loki was unharmed, and the knife flew for another few feet before landing behind him.

Loki turned to Natasha, unable to believe that she missed. At such a close proximity, he knew that there was no way for the highly skilled assassin to miss unintentionally.

Natasha was smiling down at her hand, and she was holding up one finger. "Genocidal," she said, eyes still averted away from Loki. She counted another finger mockingly. "Homicidal, fratricidal, patricidal, speciocidal, regicidal." Each finger for a crime spoken.

The woman finally raised her eyes to Loki. "I guess I have to add suicidal to the list now."

Suicide. Loki searched his own limited knowledge of the mortal word. From what he knew, it was the killing of oneself when life simply became too much. He ground his teeth. He most certainly wasn't suicidal. That was a cowardly thing, and Loki wasn't cowardly.

But that time at the Bifrost…when he let go, he didn't know he was going to survive. Loki supposed that counted as attempted suicide. Great. Now he wasn't only a traitor, he was a cowardly traitor, too.

Loki scowled at Natasha. "How…"

"The grass," Romanoff interrupted. "When you used an illusion, you wouldn't flatten the grass." She pointed behind him, and sure enough, Loki could see clumps of grass, flattened where he'd stepped on it.

Loki let out an enraged snarl, frustration clouding his features. "The fuck does that matter!" he screamed, initial calmness fading. "Just take the damn knife and kill me!"

"Why?"

Loki crossed over to her in a couple of large strides. His long, elegant fingers roughly gripped her shoulders, giving her a harsh shake. "Because you must," he spat, face inches away from hers. "Do it, or I swear I will kill you."

The Black Widow's gaze didn't waver, and her eyes betrayed no fear. "Why?"

Loki let out a frustrated yell, pushing her backwards. The former SHIELD agent didn't lose her footing, burning eyes never leaving his face.

"Fuck you," Loki snapped, and with a flick of his fingers, Natasha Romanoff was gone.

Loki never sent for her again.

—

 **II. Tony Stark**

Pepper paused in her brisk, clicking steps, staring out the balcony window as she felt a pang deep inside her.

Her gaze dropped to the busy streets of New York below, teeming with people. Her fingers lightly rested on the clear glass, mended after Loki had broken it by flinging -Tony through.

This was where Tony had almost died.

Her eyes flickered over to the countertop. That was where Tony had audaciously offered Loki a drink, if his somewhat jumbled account was anything to go by. Loki had apparently tried to use his mind-controlling scepter on Tony, but his arc reactor had stopped it.

Pepper's lips twisted. Even she could appreciate the irony in that.

She glanced at her watch, and after judging that she had at least ten spare minutes in her busy schedule, Pepper's attention drifted to the crazed demigod who'd attacked New York.

Pepper didn't like to be single-minded. She, while a practical woman, felt it only fair to look at things from everyone's point of view, not just her own. Even when Stane had betrayed Tony in such a cruel way, Pepper had in vain tried to justify his actions to herself. But there simply wasn't a way to make Obadiah's wrong a right, in her mind at least.

So she tried to picture things from Loki's point of view. Loki was adopted, Tony had said. Pepper scrunched up her face. Identity issues? she guessed, but Pepper couldn't justify Loki's actions with that. He'd tried to kill his sibling, for God's sake.

If Thor had been an awful big brother, that would at least make a little bit of sense. But there were numerous times the big god of thunder had crashed at Stark Tower, and Thor had been sweet to her. From running forward to open the door for her, offering to help whenever Pepper was stuck cleaning up Tony's drunken messes, and making tea for her when Pepper complained of a headache, Thor had been an absolute darling.

Had he been different before? Once, when Thor was helping Pepper hang up a new painting, Loki had come up. The mention of his little brother always sent Thor into a graver mood.

"What he did was wrong, very wrong, Lady Pepper," Thor said, looking earnestly into Pepper's eyes. "And I understand that. The things he did to Stark, they were wrong."

Then, his large blue eyes became impossibly bluer and larger. "But I beg you to believe me when I say this, Pepper, that Loki wasn't always like this."

"What was he like, then?" Pepper asked somewhat curiously.

Thor laughed bitterly. "You wouldn't believe it, but Loki was extremely sensitive." His gaze was dark with sorrow and pain. "I remember once, Loki had a small wolf cub he attempted to nurse back to health, after finding it motherless and with a broken leg. But there was no way the poor cub could make it, yet Loki wouldn't listen to reason. It died within two days."

Thor swallowed hard. "He cried for days, afterwards." He paused for a moment. "Loki would always confide in me before, when we were younger. I guess I just kept teasing him so mercilessly that he just…stopped."

When Thor averted his eyes, Pepper laid a hand on his arm. "Thor, it's not your fault," she said gently.

He just brushed off her soothing. "Lady Pepper, you don't understand," he said. "If I'd been a better older brother, if I'd cared more for him and included Loki more, if I wasn't so arrogant and blind, none of this wouldn't have happened." Thor stopped speaking and closed his eyes.

"Maybe it is your fault," said Pepper abruptly, and Thor's eyes were instantly wide open, looking somewhat confused. But Pepper knew what she was doing. She'd handled Tony after every one of his nightmares about Afghanistan, and she could handle Thor.

"Maybe you could have averted all this, if you'd been more considerate," went on Pepper, brutally honest. "But you weren't, and there's nothing you can do about that."

Pepper gave Thor's shoulder a comforting squeeze. "Thor, you need to stop thinking about what kind of brother you could've been, and start thinking about what kind of brother you will be." Pepper smiled warmly at Thor. "And I'm sure you'll be a great one."

She dragged herself back to the present by giving herself a good, hard pinch. Pepper glanced quickly at her watch again. She probably should leave now.

Turning halfway to leave, Pepper gave one more quick glance at the window. And her jaw dropped.

Standing there, was a young man that had most definitely not been there before.

He looked in his mid-twenties, with carefully slicked back black hair, exotic green eyes, and slightly pale features. He was dressed comfortably in strange clothing, all green and black. But strangest of all was that weird feeling Pepper got when she looked at him, as though she remembered him.

But Pepper could've sworn she'd never met him. If she had, she felt sure that those handsome, striking features and odd clothing would've stuck with her. And someone with high enough access to get here…no, Pepper would've definitely remembered him.

"May I help you?" asked Pepper smoothly, realizing she probably had stared for too long.

The young man smiled, displaying two rows of flawless white teeth. "Virginia Potts," he said, voice rich and cultured with the faintest hint of a pleasant but foreign accent. "Or may I call you Pepper?"

"I'm sorry," said Pepper, "but do I know you? And how did you get access to these floors?"

He tipped his head to one side, jaded green eyes—that suddenly struck Pepper as looking poisonous—studying her. "No?" he inquired in confusion. "I could've sworn I met your boyfriend, Anthony Stark."

"There's a lot of things Tony doesn't tell me," said Pepper dryly. "Now, what was your name again?"

He smiled again, but it wasn't pleasantly charming like the first smile. No, this smile was malicious and cruel, displaying dark intent. Pepper's heart skipped a beat, that awful elastic-looking smile becoming horribly familiar. She drew a step back.

"You may've heard of me," said Thor's little brother, terrible smile only growing. "I'm pretty famous in these parts."

Pepper sucked in her breath sharply, and all she could think of in that moment was that the person in front of her seemed awfully unlikely to cry over a dead wolf cub.

—

Loki was mentally debating how to kill Virginia Potts.

Should he throw a knife at her? Shoot her? Cut a vital vein and watch her slowly bleed out and die?

Loki discarded the last option. He, while a murderer, liked to think he could be merciful. A painless death will infuriate Stark enough to kill him, anyway. A carefully constructed plan ran through his head, one that had been carefully rehearsed many times.

But Loki hadn't anticipated how damn fast the Iron Man was going to appear to the scene.

"Oh, hey there Reindeer Games," said a tinny voice, and a red-gold blur landed behind Loki, on one knee with a fist implanted into the ground. "Miss me?"

Before Loki could come up with a sarcastic answer, he was knocked backwards by a repulser blast in a most undignified way.

Cursing, he teleported himself behind Potts, quickly pressed a small knife to her throat. Virginia stilled, and Loki could feel her pulse hammering wildly away. Loki smiled at the Iron Man, who hesitated, faceplate flipping open.

New plan.

Using a touch of magic, Loki silenced Pepper. His plan was simple. Kill Potts, flee Stark's wrath, and 'accidentally' fall to his death. He wasn't killing himself, technically it was the Iron Man since he would be chasing him. It was a foolproof plan, and it was better than being humiliatingly killed outright by a mortal.

As the blade pressed closer and closer to home, blood dripped down Potts's bare, unguarded neck and the expression of raw fear in her eyes grew.

Loki glanced at Stark, who curiously wasn't yelling at him or cursing. Instead, the mortal's eyes were on Potts, and he was gesturing to her. As though he were trying to….remind her of something.

Oh shit.

Loki was suddenly aware of a burning, hot white pain in his abdomen, and a knee collided with his groin. He was unprepared, and stumbled back unwillingly, hands falling to his sides. Potts was free.

"Nice tasering, Pep!" came the Iron Man's voice, and Loki blindly ducked and rolled on the ground as a repulser blast shot above his head, barely missing him. He gritted his teeth in fury, scrambling near the counter for cover.

Because his pride simply couldn't handle being killed by Stark of all people, Loki quickly pulled an illusion over himself as Pepper, and changed Virginia into himself. That would give him a moment's respite, and he would attempt to flee Stark's blasts. He then would 'accidentally' fall through the glass and die effectively.

As he prepared to run, he saw Stark aiming one of his toys at Potts disguised as Loki, and that was where Loki got his next inspiration for grandly dying.

He would crash into Virginia and save her life, but the blast from Stark's weapon would still hit Loki, killing him. Then Stark would have to live with the fact that Loki died saving his girlfriend's life, from Stark himself, of all people.

Before Stark fired his weapon, Loki was already moving, letting the illusions fall away as he slammed into Potts' side. Yet the damned weapon didn't harm him, merely singing the ends of his black hair as it landed harmlessly behind them. Damn.

But Loki and Potts were still rolling, a tangled mass of arms and legs. Apparently Loki had slammed into Potts too hard.

The pair crashed into the window and it crashed, glass pieces raining down on them. And then Loki was falling, falling.

His plan had worked after all. Loki was going to die.

At least, that's what he thought, before a hand caught his, holding him up.

—

Pepper swallowed hard, muscles straining with face red as she knelt at the side of the floor. Her head swam dizzily as she gripped Loki's pale fingers as tight as she could. Her heels had fallen off in the tussle, and she dug her feet into the ground.

But there was no denying it, she was slipping. Loki's weight was bearing her down.

Yet why the hell was she still holding onto him? Why didn't Pepper just let go of him?

The simple answer: she couldn't.

The fact that the man she was risking her life for was a murderer did not leave her, but so did the fact that this was Thor's little brother, a sweet little overly-sensitive boy who cried over his pets and longed for attention from his brother. And…he just saved her life.

So she held on.

Pepper chanced a look at Loki, and he was snarling, poisonous green eyes alight with fury. "Let go of me!" he screamed at her, long legs flailing behind him. "You insolent, foolish mortal!"

She ignored him, but her palms were beginning to sweat. Pepper cursed, and Loki smiled.

Then he fell.

—

He was doing it.

Finally, Loki was going to die.

As he rushed through the air, Loki summoned up the memories of his golden childhood, when it had been just him and Thor, with no Warriors Three and no Sif. Running through rosy flowers, clambering up hazelnut trees, sneaking into the kitchen to steal handfuls of pastries, chasing red-gold blurs….wait, what?

Loki's hazy vision snapped back to reality as his eyes fixated on the image of the Iron Man streaking down as fast as he could go. For a moment, Loki thought Stark was trying to make sure Loki actually died.

Then the alarming answer settled on him—Stark was trying to save him.

Shit, shit, shit….oh damnit, would nobody just fucking let him die?

But the ground was too close, and Stark was too far away, yes, yes, Loki was going to make it. He took a deep breath, and felt a harsh slam against his body, a cold icy numbness…then silence.

His pulse stilled.

—

Loki had prepared to see Hela when he opened his eyes, because there was no way he was going to wake up in Valhalla. He had never actually seen Hela, face-to-face. Half of her was said to be an image of the most beautiful woman ever seen, and the other half was a repulsive, blackened creature. No definite picture, however, had been drawn up.

But Loki was pretty sure she didn't look wear a neatly trimmed beard, a cocky grin, and a suit of burnished red-and-gold armor.

Then the panic and pain settled in. He wasn't dead, he was alive.

Loki meant to snap something at Stark, but all that came out was a drunken mumble. "You're not the goddess of hell," Loki slurred.

Stark grinned wider. "Last time I checked, nope. Though some may beg to differ."

"Why am I not dead?"

Dark eyebrows raised. "Why, Rudolph, surely you aren't complaining?"

Loki swore. "What did you do, you ignorant mortal?"

"Defibrillator."

"What the fuck?"

"As the good Cap would say, language, young man," said Stark mildly, tone amused. "I didn't do much, just shocked you back to life after feeling no pulse."

Loki swore violently in about ten different languages. He'd tried to kill himself three times, and they hadn't worked.

Giving Stark one last heated glare, Loki teleported himself away.

—

 **III. Clint Barton**

Loki was a fool.

Two different Avengers. Three different perfect chances. And yet, Loki was not dead.

Either Loki was a goat-brained idiot, or the Norns hated him. He decided to go with the latter, as it was less insulting to his pride.

Loki began to pace back and forth in the little Midgardian apartment, hands folded neatly behind his back. He'd expected more of Romanoff, and the fact that Stark had just saved his life left a bitter taste in his mouth.

No, now he needed someone who would be sure to kill him. The Captain was out of the question. Banner had been next on list, but it would be a hard and messy business to get the beast unleashed, and Loki wasn't eager to die in pain. A quick, painless death would be preferable.

That's when the answer struck him. This person had every reason to want to kill Loki and gain revenge. But just to be safe, Loki would pay a very special visit to his family.

It was time to visit his former minion's home.

—

"Clint! I thought you were coming in a few hours!"

Laura Barton's delighted voice rang out as Loki, disguised as Clint Barton, stepped into the large, comfortable house. Her warm brown eyes danced with pleasure and she flung a baby-free arm around his neck.

"The job got finished sooner than I expected," answered Loki, a fairly neutral reply. Laura just accepted that answer.

Loki's gaze fell on the baby that was carefully balanced on her hip. Nathaniel Pietro Barton, the shirt read. Ah, so Barton had a child.

"Cooper and Lila are napping," Laura said breathlessly, and Loki amended the statement. Not a child, children.

That fool. Didn't he know how easy it would be for Loki to just kill his wife where she stood, then hold his children hostage?

Laura didn't notice anything amiss, but laid the gurgling, chubby baby on the couch. "They can be quite a handful sometimes," she told him with a smile. "But they're my handful."

Loki had planned to reveal himself by then, but then decided it would be amusing to kiss Laura first. "That's where you're wrong," Loki murmured to her. "They're our handful."

He kissed her and Laura kissed back with fervor, fingers knotting in his light brown hair.

Loki felt a smug satisfaction as he felt Laura's lips on his, a triumphant, cruel smirk twisting Barton's features.

Laura sensed the change in his demeanor and opened her honey-brown eyes, confusing shining out of them as she saw the look on his face. "Honey?" she asked hesitantly.

Loki stepped away from her, the disguise of Clint Barton falling away. It was hilarious, the way her emotions changed from bewilderment to alarm and finally recognition and then fear.

"Loki?" she breathed, tone both parts repulsed and fearful. Her gaze instantly fell on her now sleeping child.

Now, Loki knew the sensible thing to do right now was to take the baby hostage. No harm would befall him while the child was in his possession, but Loki wanted harm to befall him.

Instead, he merely pointed an illusion of a fake gun at the baby, and called out in Barton's voice, "Cooper! Lila! I'm home!"

Laura's lips pressed into a thin line, but there was nothing she could do. Shrieks of "Daddy!" and "Daddy's home!" rang out, and there was the thump of children's feet on stairs. Two children, a young boy and girl, rushed into the room, only to stop dead at the sight of Loki.

"Sit down, otherwise I'll shoot your brother," Loki said serenely in his own voice, and the wide-eyed kids, after a fearful, teary glance at their shaking mother, complied.

Loki pulled out the phone he had in his pocket, and dialed Barton's number, eyes never leaving Laura's face.

After a couple of rings, the archer picked up, and Loki put it on speaker. "Hello?" came the cautious question, and Loki smirked at his wife.

"Hello there, Barton," he said conversationally. "Miss your old master?"

Barton spat. "Oh, it's you, you motherfucking bastard," came the hissed answer. "What the fuck do you want?"

"Just a quick question," said Loki nonchalantly. "You see, I'm not wanting to stain my own knives with useless mortal blood….so where do you keep your butchering knives?"

There was a silence on the line, and then a string of fluent curses. The girl's eyes went as wide as saucers, apparently more concerned about her father cursing than she was about being murdered.

"Mommy, Daddy said lotsa bad words," she whispered urgently. "Does he have to put twenty dollars in the Swear Jar?"

Loki made no attempt to hide his dry bark of laughter, and he knew that Barton would hear Lila's loudly whispered question.

"Lila? Honey, is that you?" came Clint's fretful voice. "Just hang tight, okay? Daddy's coming, and he'll beat the crap out of that monster."

"Daddy, that's another dollar," Lila said in a hushed whisper, and her older brother nudged her sharply in the ribs.

Loki hung up.

—

Clint wasn't terribly long in coming. A loud crash sounded upstairs, and harsh, loud, purposeful footsteps pattered down the stairs and Hawkeye burst into the room.

After that, things happened quickly.

Barton shot a volley of sharp black arrows at him in graceful, fluid motion, and it was all Loki could do to avoid them. Even so, he ended up on the ground, rolling.

By the time he was up on his feet, Laura had already taken her children and left. She was quick, Loki had to give her that.

Because Loki wasn't willing to let himself flat out die, just like that, he put up a decent fight. Round and round they went, like a deadly dance.

But Loki had to give Barton the upper hand in order to die, and that's what the god of lies did. He allowed himself to be driven backwards, until his back was pressed up tightly against the wall.

Even if Loki had tried, in this vulnerable position and without his magic, there was no way he could win. It wasn't long before Barton had a knife pressed to his neck.

As Loki prepared for the killing blow, he mentally swore when he saw Barton's face. He hadn't expected Barton, of all people, to be sentimental. Loki had to do something about that.

"Can't kill me, Barton?" Loki sneered. "Well, I knew the whole while you wouldn't be able to do it. Because deep inside of you, there's a part of you. A part of you that desires to be ruled."

Loki leaned closer, lips grazing his ear. "And that part…won't let you kill your ruler."

Barton stilled.

"And when you've surrendered all of yourself to your master," hissed Loki, "I'll send you to that bitch you call your wife. She'll run thrilled to embrace you, but then she'll see it in your eye that you are no longer hers. But it'll be too late for her. Smiling, you'll murder her in front of your children, her blood drenching their hair. They'll be screaming for their daddy, but you will ignore the to please your master."

Loki didn't have the faintest idea if what he was saying was true, but it was all he could think of for the moment. He kept rambling on, the words its intended effect, for Barton was breathing heavily, sweat forming on his brow.

Loki was unimpressed at Barton's formidable facial expression, and he let it show. Inwardly, he regretted the fact that the furious mortal's face would be the last thing he saw before he died.

So he summoned up all his memories of Frigga, trying to make her his last memory.

Loki kept on speaking, not even aware of what he himself was saying. But it must have reached some sort of limit for Barton, for with a choked cry of "Stop!" Loki felt hands around his neck, squeezing.

Loki gagged at the impact, but kept the grotesque smile still on his face. Yet at the same time he closed his eyes and imagined Frigga, hair falling in honey-gold ripples, eyes as blue as Thor's, surrounded by a halo of light. A cool rustling of skirts, gentle, soothing words, a warm hand to brush away his tears.

That's when Barton stopped.

Loki's eyes opened, vivid green eyes sharp as he stared at Barton in slight confusion.

Barton was smiling.

It wasn't a malicious smile. It wasn't a smug smile, a resigned smile, a triumphant smile. It wasn't even a happy smile.

No, Barton's smile was amused.

Somehow, that irked Loki more than anything else. He scowled darkly at Barton, who was giving Loki a knowing, almost understanding, look. Loki hated that look with ever fiber of his being.

"Nat was right," he said musingly, studying Loki out of eyes that had looked better when Tesseract-blue. "You really are suicidal."

Horrifying reality sinking in, Loki stared stupidly at Barton. No, no, no, this couldn't be happening. First the Black Widow, then Virginia, then Stark, then Barton?

This was too much. Loki bared his teeth menacingly at Barton, but he just gave Loki another amused look. "Psychopaths generally do go suicidal," Barton commented.

"I'm not a psychopath," Loki muttered out of habit, recalling a Midgardian TV show he had found somewhat interesting. "I'm a high functioning sociopath."

Barton appeared absolutely delighted. "You watch Sherlock?" he asked as though that were the most hilarious thing ever. "Oh god, that is too funny. I've got to tell Stark."

Loki swore fluently, then disappeared in a puff of smoke for drama.

But not before leaving a twenty dollar bill for the Swear Jar.

—

Loki paced in his apartment again, back to where he started.

He simply couldn't get himself fucking killed. How hard could it be, really?

Fine. The Norns were leaving him no choice. He'd have to go after his not-brother.

Thor.

But to get to Thor, Loki had to find Jane Foster. Kill her, maybe?

No!

Since when did Loki follow a pattern? To get to Stark, he targeted Potts. To get to Barton, he targeted his wife. This was starting to turn into some kind of pattern.

No, Loki needed to do something different, something Thor would be furious about.

Gritting his teeth, Loki smirked as an idea struck him. It would get Thor beautifully furious and angry, and Loki was guaranteed a quick, painless death with Mjolnir.

Loki was going to rape Jane Foster.

—

 **IV. Thor**

"Jane Foster?"

Loki kept his tone smooth and articulate, elegantly picking his way around clumps of people as his eyes fell upon the famous _Jane Foster_.

The look of her was so surprising that Loki nearly stopped in his tracks. He'd expected a ravishingly beautiful woman with an arrogant air familiar to Thor, and equally as stupid. Large breasts, seductively curving lips, heavy lashes and with a flirting demeanor.

This person he saw….wasn't like anything he'd imagined.

Her frame was small and petite, with curling mousy-brown hair and large, doe-like eyes. There wasn't anything stupid about her either, and Loki could tell merely by the intelligent gleam in her eyes that this woman's cleverness far surpassed Thor's.

"Yes?"

Jane Foster turned around halfway and her sharp gaze fell upon him. Loki had placed several charms upon him so it would be impossible for anyone to recall who he was.

Loki smiled charmingly at her, and slipped gracefully through the crowd as he stood next to his target.

His respect for her further increased as Loki noted the quiet air of confidence hovering around her. This was a woman who would stand no nonsense from anyone.

"Did you call me?" Jane asked him. She was short, very short, so she had to crane her neck to catch his eye.

Loki was—what was the Midgardian term?— _flabbergasted_ at the thought of this woman being Thor's lover, that his brain barely registered the fact that he was staring.

"Yes," Loki answered swiftly. "I have important business to discuss with you."

She wasn't a fool. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

Loki had prepared for this, though. Blithely he caught her dainty hand and brushed his lips against it, and as he raised his head he murmured in Jane's ear, "I'm from Asgard."

 _That_ certainly got her attention. "Hang on Darcy, I'll be right back," said Jane distractedly, brushing away another young girl she'd been chatting with.

Jane caught his eye. "Come on, I know a place where we can talk in private," she said, and Loki nodded, suppressing a smile.

She guided him out into some kind of backway alley, and they stood outside in the brisk air. Jane looked at him expectantly.

"What did you need me for?" she asked, voice formal but Loki could detect the barely concealed delight and excitement underneath her placid tones.

Loki flashed her an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, but this has to be entirely confidential," he said. "Are you sure there's nobody around?"

"I'm confident," Jane answered stoutly, and Loki gave her a nasty grin.

"Then there'll be no one to hear you scream."

The shock barely registered on her face before Loki teleported her away.

—

Loki took her to one of the many rips in reality, a tear in space. He'd often resided in there after mastering the dark arts of entering them. There were like little pockets of universe, tiny rooms you could reach by using black elf magic and portals.

He went to a familiar one, that he'd formed into two rooms complete with a bed, dresser, and a larder filled with food. Loki never knew when he'd have to escape into his little pockets.

Jane was staring at Loki openly. "Oh my god," she murmured faintly. "You're… _Loki_."

"I know."

"How did I not recognize you?"

Loki didn't bother to educate her, because there were more pressing matters on his mind. After escorting her into the bedroom and telling her to stay put in a chair, Loki began to pace back and forth, ignoring the mortal's heated protests and questions.

Loki had a problem. He'd prepared himself to rape whoever, even though he didn't even want to.

But he hadn't prepared himself to rape… _her_.

Quiet, dignified, intelligent, and only sort of pretty. Loki ran his fingers though the mass of tangled black hair. Killing her was out of the question, because Loki needed to do something _more_ to get Thor furious.

Loki had no idea what to do now, so he decided to get _her_ opinion on it.

Smirking halfway at the absurdity of the situation, Loki stopped abruptly and whirled around on a heel to face his prisoner.

"Jane," he said. "I'm going to have to rape you."

Oh god, her face. It was too funny. Her face went from shocked, to fearful, to confused.

Her question wasn't something foolish like, _Why?_ or _Oh my god, please don't!_ "Why are you telling me this?" she asked instead, narrowing her liquid brown eyes.

Loki threw himself onto the bed, letting loose a huge sigh. "Because I don't _want_ to rape anybody."

Jane let out an indignant huff, and it annoyed him, because hell, she should be _terrified._ "Then why are you going to rape me?"

For a moment, Loki dearly longed to explain everything to her. She was an intelligent, bright woman, and Loki could just wipe her memory afterwards, because really, it's the _memory_ of a moment that counts the most.

Wait, what did he just say?

All he needed Jane to hold onto was the _memory_ of the rape in order to tell Thor, right? Well, memories could be _created_. And Loki had mastered the art of that a couple of decades ago.

Loki was so relieved that he grinned widely at her, aware of how awful it must look. "I got an idea," he announced to her. "So I don't need to rape you anymore. Yes, you're welcome."

Jane was tipping her head, offering him a quizzical expression. "Remind me again why you needed to rape me in the first place?"

 _Why the hell not?_ Loki thought. He could just explain everything to her, send her into a deep sleep, create new memories, then erase the old ones of Loki telling Jane everything and replacing it with the memories of rape.

"It's a long story," commented Loki, sitting up with long legs elegantly crossed.

Jane narrowed her eyes. "I _like_ long stories."

After exhaling, Loki nodded, much to Jane's obvious surprise. "Very well," he said. "Do you remember the Chitauri?"

She answered with a frown. "Um, aren't they those alien thingies that attacked New York?" Jane's gaze became more drawn and pointed. " _Your_ army, that you used to unnecessarily kill dozens of…"

"If we want to keep this conversation civilized," Loki cut in sharply, "I suggest you quit _preaching_ to me and trying to _bring me down the right path_."

Jane huffed. "Fine. Okay, go on."

"You know what," said Loki, "I think I'll just start at the beginning. It'll make more sense." Jane just shrugged, so Loki kept speaking.

"Due to some…circumstances out of my control," Loki began, "I, er, ending up falling into a wormhole, and I landed on the Chitauri's homeworld. They are a savage, brutal race, and they need a ruler."

"And you, in all your intelligence, decided you wanted to rule them," Jane interjected dryly. Loki snorted.

"I would have," he answered shamelessly. "But they already had a master." Loki sucked in his breath for dramatic purposes. "Thanos."

The name seemed to have little to no affect on Foster, and she just nodded absently. "What about him?" She caught the look on Loki's face and went up on the defensive. "Should I know him?"

"Foolish, ignorant mortals," Loki mumbled under his breath, and added aloud, "He's just a giant, evil, purple creature with power unparalleled to anyone in the universe, set on destroying the Nine Realms."

Silence. "Oh."

"Oh, indeed," Loki mocked. "Back to the subject." Loki inhaled sharply. "The Chitauri dragged me before Thanos, who wanted to know all the secret passageways in and out of Asgard. I refused, because hell, _no one_ can demand things like that of me…" Jane smiled, probably thinking that he did it for Asgard, "…without paying," Loki finished, and the astrophysicist was frowning again. "After I said no, Thanos decided that I would make a _fabulous_ toy for his army."

Jane stilled, folding her hands on her lap. Loki studied her face intently, and was gratified when he didn't see any pity on there. The angles in her face has softened subtly, and there was a quiet gleam on her doe-like eyes. She didn't say, _I'm sorry,_ but merely asked, "What happened then?"

Loki was surprised at how much better he felt, telling someone everything without worrying about the consequences. He should do this more often—grabbing a mortal, forcing them to listen to Loki, and then wiping the human's memory. He should take that red-haired woman, Potts. She seemed like a sentimental fool, all right.

"They tortured me," Loki said bluntly, and Jane barely managed to keep her flinch under control. "I probably would have died, if I hadn't met another life in that filthy place."

"Who?" Jane asked, horrified intrigue showing on her face.

"Thanos' top assassin," answered Loki, emerald-cut eyes flitting shut as he drew up vague mental images of her. "She was an idiot, really. She acted like she had a tough exterior, but inside she was just a pile of sentimental mush."

Loki only spoke so carelessly of her because he desired to hide the emotion tangled with her. Gamora, she had said her name was. She was intelligent with a wry sense of humor, and Loki had greatly enjoyed her company. Their relationship could have gone places, in Loki's honest opinion. But she _was_ soft inside…didn't he see the look of raw horror when Loki mentioned that he was going to take over a world?

"Seems like she would've done you some good," answered Jane after a pause. "What happened next?"

"It didn't take me long to figure out Thanos' real plan," Loki went on. "He didn't _really_ want the location of the passages into Asgard. No, Thanos was _testing_ me. He was trying to see how strong I was, how much I can endure, and if I'd be a good—what's the word?—henchman."

Jane's jaw dropped. "How the hell did you figure _that_ out?"

"Pure logic," Loki said, surprised at the look on her face. "I pieced together bits that the assassin and Chitauri said, and I figured out that Thanos desired the Tesseract on Midgard. He needed someone to fetch it for him, for the Chitauri are too brutal and clumsy to do that. So why didn't he send me? He needed to test me." Loki shrugged. "Plus, that's what _I_ would do."

Jane let out a strangled noise from the back of her throat. "Okay," she drawled out. "So keep going."

"I attempted an escape," Loki continued. "But I knew it would fail. I was dragged back before Thanos, and asked him for a portion of his army to conquer Earth, in exchange for the Tesseract. He agreed, and then, well, you know the rest." Loki shot her a quick glance.

Foster was nodding, understanding. "I'm still not sure what this relates to me getting raped."

"I'm getting there," Loki huffed with impatience. "As you know, I failed. Thanos and the Chitauri were displeased, undoubtedly. So by the use of dream visiting, Thanos offered me a choice—either surrender myself to him for supposed 'punishing', or hide out in the Realms. If I chose the latter, Thanos swore he would destroy every one of the Nine Realms until I was killed." He caught the incredulous look on her face. "And yes, he would."

Blanching, Jane opened her mouth to speak, a look that plainly said, _Why are you here and not busy surrendering your damn self to the Chitauri?_

Loki interrupted. "Because neither of the options were desirable," he said, "I pleaded for an alternative, and Thanos gave me one."

"What is it?" Jane asked, clearly not liking the look on his face.

"I have to get myself killed somehow," Loki replied. "I can't kill myself, which would be the preferred option. No, I have to get someone else entirely to kill me, and I can't tell them why."

"So you're going to get _me_ to kill you?" Jane asked disbelievingly, and Loki inwardly cursed the stupidity of mortals.

"Of course not, you fool," he snapped icily. "I just _explained_ everything to you. And I am _not_ going to die in humiliation, knowing that I have been slayed by the most weak of all creatures."

Jane pursed her lips, ignoring the insult. "So….what's your plan?"

"I tried to get the Black Widow to kill me," said Loki. "I planned it from a couple of months ago, but she saw through me plan." He briefly outlined the events that occurred between him and Agent Romanoff. "I tried Stark," he went on, "and he killed me for about two seconds, but ending doing some mortal thing that shocked me back to life. Barton was a no-go, too."

Loki sighed bitterly. "I'm now going to my last resort…Thor."

Jane's forehead crunched up in a most adorable way as she worked, trying to put the pieces together. Really, it was amusing to watch understanding visibly dawn on her forehead. "Oh my god," she breathed. "Is that why you're doing.. _this_ to me? You're trying to get Thor mad at you!"

"Yes," said Loki with a nasty grin. He unnecessarily mimed the motion of swinging a hammer. "Just a little bit of riling up that foolish oaf, and then the deed's done."

Foster looked vaguely ill. "My god," she repeated again. "Do you honestly think that Thor is going to kill you?" Her face softened in compassion, and Loki hissed at the sight of it. "Loki, he's your brother."

"And that's _exactly_ why I know him better than you," Loki spat. "I know how he is in his rage, and I know how he treats those who harm his loved ones.

"Loki," Jane murmured gently. "You _are_ one of his loved ones."

"Don't be stupid," Loki brushed off, ignoring the stab to his heart. "He fucking hates me. I bet he'd be glad for an excuse to beat me up."

"I could swear on it," Jane insisted fervently. "He loves you, Loki. He'd rather chop off his own arm than _kill_ you."

Loki was breathing heavily. "Then I'll _force_ him to kill me," he hissed in anger. "I'll give him _no damned choice_ but to drive Mjolnir through my skull."

"But you can't do that to Thor," Jane went on in rising alarm, disregarding Loki's blazing jade eyes and furious, heated glare. "Loki, you don't _understand_ what it'll do to him if he accidentally kill you in his anger." Her large brown eyes were filled with fear for Thor. "It'll _destroy_ him."

"Do you think that matters in the least to me?" Loki snapped, taking no heed of the painful lurch his heart made. "If he wants to destroy himself, then let him. I don't fucking give a shit."

Jane didn't answer to that. "What are you going to do now?" she asked after a pause.

Loki's explosive outburst was beginning to cool down. "I was going to rape you," he said, "but I now know I don't need to. All I need to do is give you memories of rape, and erase the memories you have of our conversation here."

"So I'll run and go tattling to Thor," Jane finished sadly.

"Exactly," Loki said viciously. He was getting irritated now, and he didn't know why. "Goodbye, Jane."

"Wait!" Jane began frantically, but with a wave of his hand, Loki sent her off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

—

Memories of rape.

They were hard and difficult to conjure up, even for an accomplished sorcerer like Loki. But he needed to attach emotion to them to make the memories realistic, and it took a lot of researching on the convenient 'Internet' Midgardians had.

He had no idea what Jane's body looked like naked, and had no desire to know, so Loki just decided the memory would be dark. That was better. Now, nothing had to be explicitly detailed.

Loki felt sick at the memories he created—slamming her roughly against the wall, claiming her lips in a brutal, crushing kiss, yanking her hair sharply when she struggled beneath him. The rules of being courteous with women that had been drilled into him at a young age pricked uncomfortably at his conscience.

But it had to be done. Sucking in his breath, Loki created more memories. He tore off her clothes and undid his trousers, and despite Jane's wailed protests, Loki committed the final indignity.

It was awful, so damned incredibly _awful_. Loki wanted to go kill himself as his gut twisted, watching a crueler version of himself fuck Jane harshly, disregarding her screams of agony, and her sobs and begs of _please don't_ and _Oh god, please, I beg you, don't_.

After a few awful gut-churning hours of dedicated hard work, Loki was finished. He set aside the memory and saved it for later. Then, he began to think.

Loki needed something else entirely to add on…something awful, something cruel.

And all at once, it struck him.

He moved the horrific memory back five months, touching up and revising the memories Jane had created since then. He added other memories of Jane growing somewhat suspicious after four weeks, and getting positive results from a pregnancy test in five.

After three months, the bump was visible.

Loki wasn't sure how Jane would react in that situation, so he just added a lot of crying herself to sleep. He added conflicts between abortion and keeping the baby, but decided that sentimental Jane would chose to keep the child. Loki's lips twisted into a bitter smirk.

This, _this_ would get Thor furious.

Loki gritted his teeth as he moved on to altering earlier memories. That was more difficult, as they were still more fresh and vivid in the mortal's mind.

He inserted a memory of Jane deciding to call Thor, after discovering from her news that he had returned to Earth. Very well, there was where he would stop.

The smallest mistake would result in failure. Loki double-checked everything, toying with her memories for another few hours until it was all packaged neatly.

Time to get moving.

With a flick of his wrist, Loki teleported an unconscious Jane and himself to her small, dingy apartment. He laid her on the couch, place her phone next to her, and made himself invisible.

Silently hovering over her, Loki pressed a hand to her forehead, all of the alters, additions and subtractions Loki had made to Jane's private memories replacing the old ones. After a few moments, Loki stepped back with a sigh.

There.

Loki had done it.

And with a snap of his fingers, Loki woke Jane up.

—

Even months after the incident occurred, Loki could see the difference in her.

It was the look in her eyes, the way she carried herself. There was a quiet look of dignified sorrow in those dark, liquid irises instead of a sparkle, the face that had been alight with the joy of living was downcast and dark with grief, and the beautiful red lips that had been so quick to smile had a down turn to them. And there also was the now-obvious curve of her stomach that Loki had conjured up, as well.

Jane glanced at the phone in her hands, and her eyes filled easily with tears. There was a moment of indecision as she opened the phone, finger hovering over the 'call' button.

Then she pushed it.

She bit her lip, heavy lashes wet and hands shaking so furiously, Jane could barely hold the phone itself. It kept ringing for a few moments before someone picked up.

"Thor?" Jane's voice was hesitant and almost afraid.

Loki couldn't hear the reply, but her face visibly relaxed. Loki's lips curled. _Just because the sound of his voice._

"Mhm, it's me," Jane answered, voice rough with sleep.

Thor said something on the other line, and whatever it was completely destroyed Jane. Her face crumbled and she began to sob, chest heaving.

A frantic voice could be faintly heard on the other line, and Jane laughed shakily. "Oh god, Thor, I'm all right. Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." She swallowed, eyes alight with joy. "I love you too."

 _How absolutely delightful,_ Loki sneered. _Now get the fuck on with it._

"Thor, I have something to tell you," Jane ventured hesitantly, eyes filling with fresh tears. She paused, listening to whatever was spoken on the other end.

"Oh baby, no, it's nothing you did," she said. "….no, Thor, if it's all the same to you, I'd rather tell you in person."

Jane was nodding, even though Thor couldn't see her. Whatever he said next seemed to have her overcome. "He's so sweet…..yes, of course, tell Tony thank you…..what time should I come?…..Ok, I'll be there….Sure, tell him thanks again, it really means a lot to me….I'll see you tomorrow, baby….I love you too…bye."

—

Loki paced outside the room nervously.

Things had gone as planned. Just a couple of hours later, one of Stark's planes had arrived at the location Thor had given Jane. Foster had left with only a small, hastily-packed suitcase.

Loki had simply teleported himself to Stark Tower and waited there, invisible to the eyes of everyone. He tried to amuse himself by observing the Avengers living domestically— _Thor, you ate all the fucking PopTarts!—Nat, please don't parade around in that shirt, Cap's redder than my suit—Tony, I refuse to watch Sherlock, God, this has to be umpteenth time!—Point Break, don't leave your fucking hammer on my underwear! How the hell did it get there anyway?—_ but Loki didn't have the heart.

He worried himself sick, although he wasn't sure what he was worrying about himself. Thor's horrified, betrayed expression haunted him, and damn it all, Loki was downright fucking _scared_ of his not-brother.

Loki was so used to Thor simply coming around and forgiving him no matter how many times he wronged him. True, he didn't trust Loki, but there was a love underneath all the bitterness that Loki knew would never go away. Thor may fight Loki if the need arose, but he wouldn't kill Loki. He may exchange cruel, biting words, but he wouldn't disown Loki as his brother.

He'd enjoyed toying with Thor's limits, but Loki had yet to discover what would make Thor truly despise him.

Now, it looks like he'd found it.

Loki stiffened as he heard footsteps behind him. Silently he turned, and came face to face with Jane.

Her melting brown eyes were large and slightly confused as she stared around her in awe that was heavily mixed with large doses of fear and anticipation, but not the good kind.

"Dr. Foster," spoke Tony's AI suddenly, startling both Loki and Jane at the same time. "You can find Master Odinson if you head down the left corridor. He's in the first room on the right."

Jane was looking around her in bewilderment, and it took a while for her to answer. "Uh, yeah, yeah, okay. Um, thanks."

JARVIS didn't answer, and awkwardly with body tense, Jane walked over to Thor's room.

In the beginning, Loki had planned to be in the room when Jane broke the news to Thor, but now his footsteps hesitated. If he wanted to be honest with himself, Loki didn't want to see the fury, the rage, the betrayal in Thor's eyes when Jane tells him what his little brother supposedly did.

But waiting outside seemed almost as torturous as being in the room itself. Loki fretted and paced, stomach churning as he saw the clouds darkening outside. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

Heavy footsteps could be heard coming up to the door. Heavy, purposeful, vengeful steps. Loki swallowed.

Laufeyson, you made your bed. Now fucking _lie_ on it.

—

Thor came out, ridiculously blue eyes blazing with wrath written all over his face, Jane tagging behind him. Loki watched Thor, still invisible, a look of dread and fear upon his face.

Loki was bracing himself, about to tear away his invisible spell, when the sound of thumping feet turned his, Thor's, and Jane's heads.

In paraded the Captain in all his red, white and blue, righteous glory, shield slung lazily over one shoulder. "Hey Thor, Tony was wondering if…oh." Rogers stopped dead at the sight of Thor's thunderous expression and Jane's tear-streaked face. His gaze dropped towards Jane's bulging stomach.

Rogers swallowed hard, and hastily prepared to leave as quickly as he entered. "I'll just be going now," he mumbled, but Thor's hand caught his shoulder, pulling him back.

"No, stay," rumbled Thor's voice, much to Jane and Loki's surprise. "I have something I wish to discuss with you."

Rogers's eyes flickered uncertainly between Thor and Jane's face. "Um, sure, Thor. What can I do for you?"

Thor folded his arms over his chest. "Loki has been spotted," he said frankly, not beating about the bush. Rogers blinked in surprise.

"Loki?" he said, going business-like instantly. "Where?"

"San Francisco," Jane spoke up, meeting the Captain's eyes. "In my apartment."

Once again, Rogers's eyes fell on Jane's stomach, but quickly he dragged his line of sight back to her face. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, and Jane caught the implication.

She bowed her head. "It wasn't your doing," she answered simply.

Thor began to pace heavily, whirling Mjolnir around until it was a rapid, silver blur. His eyes were still fiery blue, face drawn in an angry, furious scowl. "We must find Loki," he said, voice dark. "As soon as possible."

"And there's no time as soon as right now," cut in Loki, voice smooth and mellifluous. He shimmered into visibility, donning his golden helmet, leather, and green cape just for good measure.

Three pairs of eyes fell on him, one promising wrath and vengeance, one full of pure terror and fear, and one confused but determined to do his duty.

"Loki," Thor growled, barely keeping his anger in check. "Explain yourself. _Now_."

"Why, Thor," said Loki, adding the slightest bit of mock confusion in his voice, "I'd have thought what I did was fairly obvious. I fucked your lover, and now she is pregnant with _my_ child. Surely even _you_ can understand that." Loki let a glint of mischief gleam in his eye. "Unless, of course, you want me to go into detail."

Thor let out a yell of rage, and a powerful fist was thrown his way. Taking the blow would soften Thor's anger and start to fill him with guilt, dodging it with a smirk would infuriate him more.

So, of course, with hands neatly folded behind his back, Loki stepped serenely to the side, smirking the whole while.

"Thor!" Jane shrieked, but Loki paid her little to no attention, for Thor was on top of him. The two of them were tangled up in a pile of arms and legs, and Loki kicked his way out, suffering several blows along the way.

But Loki—not even if he'd tried—could not escape Thor in all his rage. The god of thunder caught Loki by the scruff of his neck, and hurled him against the wall.

Oh Norns. Thor still had a remarkably powerful swing, and Loki could feel the ache burn sharply in every bit of his body. He bit back an agonized moan. Damn, Thor was fucking _strong._ Loki's bones were on fire inside of him.

Before Loki could struggle to his feet, smirking the whole while to anger Thor further, Thor swung another fist at him. And then another. And another. Loki couldn't even dodge the blows now. They rained heavy, harsh, merciless and fast. Loki just leaned against the wall limply for support, accepting the blows. Somewhere in the blurry, dizzying background, Jane screamed.

There was a familiar rushing sound, and Mjolnir was nestled comfortably in Thor's hand. Sentiment _better_ not get the better of Thor. But just to be safe, Loki opened his mouth, preparing his silver tongue to utter the words that would bring the hammer upon him.

But it all fell apart with the first word he spoke.

"Brother," Loki began, the traitorous word falling from his lips out of pure habit. Thor hissed, face inches away from Loki's.

" _I am not your brother_."

Even after that beating Thor had just given him, those five words hurt him the most. _Loki_ was the one to say those words, _Loki_ was the one to hurt Thor over and over again.

Not Thor.

Was this how Thor himself felt, whenever Loki said those fateful words? If Thor did, then Loki vowed to never say those words to him ever again. They'd said harsh words in their youth, 'I hate you' prevalent among them. But never, _ever_ had Thor declared that Loki was no longer his brother.

Thor's hands grabbed the front of his clothing and threw him to the ground. Loki fell on his hands and knees. He closed his eyes. Now, it was the end.

Thor lifted Mjolnir…and he _swung._

But the blow never hit Loki.

A red, white and blue shield stood between Loki's head and Thor's mighty hammer. The Captain met Thor's furious cerulean eyes.

"He's your brother, Thor," Rogers said simply, directly contradicting Thor's earlier words. "Do you really want to do this?"

Loki could've screamed.

As Rogers spoke, Mjolnir slipped out of Thor's hands and rested on the floor. Thor called her back, but she didn't answer.

 _Unworthy._

Poisonous, bitter green eyes rimmed in red locked onto horrified blue ones. The weight of what he'd just done struck Thor in one painful, stunning blow, and the god of thunder looked shocked, ashamed, and alarmed.

"Brother," Thor murmured fervently, guilt written plainly all over his face. "Oh, Norns…"

The prince of Asgard dropped to his knees beside Loki, eyes scanning Loki in the familiar older-brotherly way he always would after every single battle they fought in their youth, checking Loki for injuries. How ironic that this time, it was _Thor_ who had inflicted the injuries.

Loki, on the other hand, was almost completely numb. In another time and place, he could've laughed with the absurdity of the whole situation. Now, he was too frustrated to.

 _Four fucking times._ How the hell was the physically impossible? Were the very forces of nature working against him now?

Lost in waves of white pain, Loki could only barely register the presences of the other Avengers filling into the room. The Iron Man was saying, "hands up," but Loki could barely move them, let alone raise them up. Someone was speaking, or was it two people?

Everything became a dizzying blur of smudged colors, and all Loki could feel was pain, burning, fiery pain in every cell of his body.

Then he closed his eyes, and fell into darkness.

—

 **+1**

Loki was only dimly aware of what was going on around him. Things had become nothing but an indistinct blur. Now, Loki was in a glass cage, muzzled with the same gag he'd had on before, the one that harnessed his magic. He had no idea how he fucking got in there, nor did he care. His mind was on more important things than escape right now.

 _I am not your brother._

Surely Thor didn't mean that, did he? He _must've_ spoken in the heat of the moment….

But Loki forced himself to face the cold, hard facts. The truth was, Thor most likely hated him. Thor probably didn't want to consider a _Frost Giant_ as a brother—he'd only insisted that Loki was his brother still as a show of mock affection.

That isn't im _portant_ right now, Loki told himself sternly. He needed to figure out a way to get his damn self killed.

Honestly, Loki wasn't even going to _try_ anymore. All his precise, delicately formed plans fell apart, no matter how intricately Loki planned them. Maybe _improvising_ would be the best idea.

Maybe he could attempt a clumsy escape plan. The Avengers would have no choice but to slaughter him, right? They would undoubtedly know he was trying to get himself killed from Romanoff and Barton, and would go easy on him, but Loki didn't need to get outrightly _killed._ He just needed to get wounded, not let his magic heal him, and die.

The only question was, how was he going to get out of here?

Loki closed his eyes, allowing himself a moment's respite before he tried to figure out some rough, sketchy plan. But that was a big mistake.

The moment Loki relaxed and calmed his pacing thoughts, the pain in his body overwhelmed him. He was on fire, every bone in his body melting and burning. There was nothing but pain, pure, white-hot pain…

 _He will make you long for something as sweet as pain._

Loki felt bile rise in his throat at the thought of Thanos. His time was trickling away. If Loki didn't get himself killed in two more days, Thanos would take him.

Was this the whole purpose of the third option Thanos had given him? The Mad Titan wasn't one to be merciful. Perhaps he _knew_ how frustrating and how much this would hurt Loki. That was a foolish question, of _course_ he knew. Thanos could tell the future to some extent, and that was what made him so formidable. He and the Chitauri were most likely laughing at his pitiful plight.

So lost was he in his thoughts, that Loki didn't hear the footsteps walking up to his cell.

That's when he heard the voice.

 ** _Hello, Loki_. **

The voice was strange, not exactly aloud but inside his head. It was a musical, feminine voice, lilted with a clipped accent, and unfamiliar to him. His eyes opened sharply.

He stood up looked outside the cage, searching for the owner of the voice.

And then he saw her.

She was young, _very_ young. Sharp cheekbones, large, clear blue eyes, wavy caramel hair tumbling over her shoulders. She sparked something from Loki's vast memory.

Then it struck him all at once. Wanda Maximoff. Scarlet Witch. One of The Twins. A Weapon of Destruction.

The mind girl.

Instead of speaking aloud—partly because his mouth hurt too much to speak, but mostly just because he _could_ —Loki reached out and touched her mind in answer, an art that required years of training in mind manipulation for someone who wasn't a telepath.

 _Well. I knew the Avengers were idiots, but I didn't know they were foolish enough to send a child not yet dry behind the ears,_ Loki snarked back mentally.

If she was startled that Loki could speak to her mentally, she didn't show it. With a quirk of an eyebrow, she smirked at him.

 ** _That's where you're wrong,_** she thought back. **_The Avengers didn't send me._**

Loki huffed in disbelief. _You expect me to believe that the Avengers aren't watching us right now?_

 ** _Yes, actually,_** came the answer. **_I manipulated the cameras, so I won't be visible to them. Oh, and please try not to look like you're having a mental conversation with an invisible being right now._**

Loki frowned at her, not sure if Maximoff was lying or not. _Why are you here, if not to interrogate me?_

 ** _I wish to offer my help,_** Maximoff said unexpectedly. **_If you so desire._**

 _Remind me again, what exactly do I need your help for?_ Loki snapped back irritably.

Maximoff looked upon him with an unreadable expression. **_While you were unconscious,_** she thought back, **_I looked into your head. I know what you're trying to do._**

And by the look in her eyes, Loki could tell she knew _everything_ , from the way he attempted to manipulate Romanoff, Barton, Stark, and Thor to kill him. And _failed_.

The thought of this foreign girl invading his privacy and reading his deepest thoughts like it was some book should've infuriated him. But Loki was too tired, too far gone to care anymore.

 _You'll kill me?_ Loki asked cautiously, not daring to hope. It just might work, because he hadn't _explained_ anything to Wanda, she had figured it out herself.

Maximoff, fortunately, did not look upon him with the disgusting sentiment of _pity_. She just looked vaguely curious, and seemingly mildly interested in the whole situation. **_If you so desire._**

 _Are you going to do it in here?_ Loki asked.

 ** _I wasn't planning too,_** came the answer. **_I was going to take off your gag, and you could teleport us where you want._**

Loki was impressed by the trust she placed in him, and for a moment, he was tempted to agree, and then just teleport _himself_ somewhere else. But he needed her now, and Maximoff must know that.

 _Okay,_ he replied hesitantly. He was about to ask a question, try to form some kind of strategy, before Maximoff just dived in.

 ** _They have tranquilizer darts all over, aimed at you,_** she told him telepathically. **_Romanoff, Stark and Barton told them about your seemingly suicidal tendencies, and at the slightest hint of trouble they would shoot the dart sat you. The Avengers expected you to escape and attempt to get one of them to kill you._**

 _That, as a matter of fact, was my plan,_ Loki added wryly, and unnecessarily, because she probably already knew all that.

 ** _On the count of three, I will remove your gag,_** she said. **_You got to be quick if you don't want to be tranquilized._**

 ** _One…_**

 ** _Two…._**

 ** _Three!_**

Everything happened in a blur. Long, red tendrils hastily undid the muzzle and yanked it off, and the hated gag fell helplessly to the floor.

Loki just barely whisked away Wanda and him before a dozen darts fell harmless to the floor in the middle of an empty cage.

—

Loki and Wanda were in the middle of a small apartment, strewn with clothes, dirty dishes and other things.

"Where are we?" Wanda asked him, sea-green eyes taking in the mess.

"My place," Loki said, eyeing the floor with a lazy smirk. "I rented an apartment while I waited for Natasha…but you know that already." He narrowed his green eyes at her.

"Small talk," Wanda waved him off. "So how would you like the deed done?"

Loki was wildly impressed with her calmness, and he was glad of it. If she was gazing at him sympathetically, promising to tell Thor he loved him and that Loki was doing a great thing and all that other crap, Loki would probably put off the whole thing altogether. Her nonchalant air was exactly what Loki wanted.

He whipped out a knife from seemingly nowhere. It was a grand knife, strong, durable yet light, forged by the dwarfs of Svartalfheim, a gift from Odin himself after observing Loki's fighting style. Its twin had been lost several decades ago.

After tossing it carelessly to Wanda, Loki pulled up a chair and sat down, daring to meet her eye.

Maximoff gave him one quick glance over, before lifting up the knife using her telekinesis and with a twist of her hands, she guided it so it nudged gently at the exposed skin on Loki's neck.

Loki quickly brought up a hand to stop her, though he knew that his thoughts would already alert Maximoff. "Just a moment," he said, as serenely as though he were speaking about the weather, "I have to do something rather important." She nodded, but did not lower the knife.

Loki closed his eyes, concentrating deeply, intending to change Jane's mind back to normal. He, in all honesty, had no grounded reason as to why. Perhaps it was that disgusting 'sentiment' that had finally rubbed off of him, but Loki didn't want Jane suffering with those memories all her life. The artificial bump would go away after she died, yet the awful memories would remain.

And in another instant, Jane's mind was cleared.

—

"…can track Loki's magical signature," Tony was saying to the Avengers plus Jane gathered around the round table. "JARVIS is working on it right…"

That's when Jane felt it.

It was a peculiar, weird feeling, but the most similar thing Jane could compare it to was the moment when you suddenly remember the name of a song you were searching for. In one brief moment, everything fuzzy, blurry and confusing about her world was put right. She had been wearing tinted glasses, and she had just taken them off.

"Oh my god," she interrupted, and all eyes fell on her. Thor rested a hand on her shoulder.

"Jane, are you all right?" he began, but Jane brushed him off.

Jane turned halfway to Thor, a quiet look of dismay on her face. "Oh Thor," she whispered quietly. "I _told_ him you wouldn't."

"Wouldn't what?" Tony asked, annoyed at being interrupted. "Jane, what the hell are you going on about?"

"Wouldn't hurt him," Jane answered in a hazy daze. "My god, I told Loki you wouldn't do anything. I _swore_ on it."

"Jane, what's going on?" asked Natasha, leaning over the table.

Jane ignored her for the time being, and turned to Thor. "Thor," she breathed. "I got it all wrong. Loki didn't rape me. He didn't harm me physically at all."

" _What_?"

"The Chitauri, you remember them, right?" Jane said almost frantically, words stumbling over each other in their eagerness to get out. "Loki told me that some alien named Thanos ruled them."

"Thanos?" Thor ejaculated. "Jane, how did you hear about _Thanos_?"

"What the hell is going on?" Tony asked again in bewilderment. "Thor, who the fuck is Thanos?"

"He's a giant, purple alien determined to destroy all of civilization with the Infinity Stones," explained Thor brusquely. "Jane, explain yourself."

"Anyway, when Loki failed to get the Tesseract," Jane went on, "Loki said Thanos considers it a betrayal, I guess? Apparently Thanos gave Loki three options, either surrender himself to the Chitauri and get tortured for the rest of eternity, or hide out somewhere in the universe and watch all the Nine Realms being destroyed."

The silence that existed after was the fucking _loudest_ thing Tony had ever heard.

"And the third option?" Natasha asked quietly.

"Loki had to get himself killed," Jane said. "There were conditions, he couldn't kill _himself_ , and he couldn't explain to someone else why he had to be killed."

Barton swore. "That's why the bastard wouldn't fight me," he said. "I _thought_ he was holding back."

Jane nodded. "He didn't think the thing with Natasha would fail. So after that he targeted Pepper to goad Tony, then Laura to target Clint. When neither of them worked," Jane swallowed hard here, avoiding Thor's eyes, "he tried to goad _you_."

Even though it was unspoken, it was plainly obvious to everyone that the 'you' was Thor. "He was going to rape me," murmured Jane. "But something held Loki back. In the end, he just made his own memories of rape and replaced mine."

"So you're not pregnant?" Thor asked quietly, and Jane shook her head, turning her chair so Thor could see her flat stomach.

The weight of everything pressed down on everyone. If what Jane said was true….then Thor had beat his brother to a bloody pulp for _nothing_ , and if it hadn't been for Steve's intervention, Loki would be dead. At _Thor's_ hand.

Tony inhaled suddenly. "Can he even _do_ that?" the genius demanded weakly, trying to break the ever-so-awkward silence. "God, that's fucking _weird._ And creepy as hell."

No one paid him any mind. "Steve," Thor said quietly, "Thank you."

And although Thor hadn't expressed _why_ , Steve understood what Thor couldn't say. He nodded, graciously accepting Thor's thanks.

"Sorry to interrupt," cut in Pepper, poking her head through the door. "I know this is a private meeting and all….but does anyone know where Wanda is?"

—

"You're as tense as a drawstring," Wanda observed unhelpfully. Loki frowned.

"I'm about to be killed," he snapped in answer. " _Sorry_ if I'm a little nervous."

"You're not nervous," Wanda contradicted. Her hands reached out and grabbed Loki's fingers before he could snatch them away. They were shaking like mad, and she showed them unnecessarily to him. "You're _terrified_."

And damnit, she was fucking _right_. Loki was terrified as hell for what was going to happen, and he didn't even know why. "It doesn't matter how I feel," he said, drawing his traitorous, agitated hand away from her grasp. "Just do it already."

"It may not matter to you," said Wanda, "but it kind of matters to _me_." And before Loki could stop her, she brushed her fingers over Loki's forehead, and he was lost in a dream.

—

"Oh my god," said Tony, Clint, Bruce and Steve at the same time, getting to their feet.

"Calm down, boys," said Natasha sharply. "I know where she is."

All eyes fell on the Russian spy, and the four men sat back down in their seats in relief. "Where, then?" asked Thor.

Nat raised an eyebrow at them all. "She's with Loki, of course," she said matter-of-factly, and Clint opened his mouth in alarm. She calmly silenced him with a raised palm.

"She knows what's going on," she continued. "It just struck me. She _must_ know, but she didn't tell us."

"Why?"

"I don't know," Natasha answered. "But I saw Wanda standing behind an unconscious Loki as Bruce was checking him up. She was rummaging through his head. For whatever reasons of her own, Wanda decided that what she saw there was enough grounds to help Loki escape." She snapped her fingers. "JARVIS, bring up the footage from right after Loki wakes up.

JARVIS helpfully pulled up the footage of Loki in the cell. He was sitting slumped and very much wounded in the corner, dark hair hanging dejectedly over his face. Thor averted his eyes shamefacedly.

As all eyes watched the screen, a sudden glitch occurred in the blurry camera. Tony looked annoyed. "JARVIS, remind me to fix Camera 102," he began irritably, but Nat shook her head.

"It's not the camera," was all she would say.

On the screen, Loki suddenly flinched as if in surprise. He shot to his feet like a cat, wincing slightly. But dark green eyes scanned the cage, until his eyes fell on…something.

It was odd. Loki was smirking at something, but the weird thing was, there was nothing _there._ "That's Wanda," Natasha explained. "Keep watching."

After a few moments of Loki idiotically nodding his head to nothing in particular, he braced himself. And for the briefest of moments, you could see a small tingle of red light as the muzzle fell to the ground. Natasha waved her hand, and JARVIS paused it.

"Sir," JARVIS said, "I've just run the diagnostics, and according to the sensors in the room, there were two people in there." Natasha nodded as JARVIS confirmed her point.

"If it was Wanda, then why did she let Loki go?" Thor asked.

"Most likely scenario is that Loki took Wanda with him," said Natasha. She met Thor's eyes head-on. "She probably offered to kill him."

Silence again. "Well, there's obviously only one thing to do," said Thor briskly. "Stark, you said you could track Loki's magic signature? Find him please, and find him fast."

The silence that happened now was far more awkward. "I will," promised Tony, looking torn. "But Thor, do you believe that stopping Wanda is in the galaxy's best interest?"

Thor no longer looked like the invincible god of thunder. He simply looked weary, haggard, and well, _human_. "I don't know," he mumbled under his breath.

Tony snapped his fingers. "Hey. Look at me, big guy," he said, and Thor reluctantly dragged his eyes to Tony's face.

"Listen," said Tony, voice surprisingly full of compassion. "I will find Loki for you, if you swear that you won't stop Wanda."

Thor said nothing.

"Thor, buddy," pleaded Tony, "don't do this."

"I—I swear," forced out Thor, and although he didn't specify _what_ he was swearing, it seemed to be enough for Tony. The next words were hard for Thor to get out. "But I must go tell my brother…goodbye, and make sure that—" His voice cut off, and Thor left the room. Jane gave everyone a quick glance, and then followed.

"JARVIS," said Tony, voice rough, "start running diagnostics."

—

 ** _(the past)_**

"Mother, I want to be a hero when I grow up!" announced Loki, splashing in the little brook he was playing in with Thor.

Thor was waving his hands about excitedly. "And I'll slay the biggest dragon in all of Asgard!"

Loki pouted. "No, you'll slay the second-biggest dragon," he corrected. "I'm going to slay the biggest one."

"You won't slay any dragons at all," Thor said dismissively. "You're too small, Loki. The dragon will just eat you up. You need big, strong men to slay dragons."

"Mama!" exclaimed Loki, splashing Thor.

"Thor," Frigga said patiently, looking up from the book she was reading. The Queen of Asgard and her two sons were taking a day off in the lush fields of Northern Asgard, while Odin was attending to some business. "You need to be kinder to your brother. And there aren't any dragons left on Asgard, sweetheart."

"Then I'll slay all the Frost Giants!" declared Thor grandly, oblivious to the sudden pinching of Frigga's lips. "Even the biggest, most nastiest…"

"Thor," Frigga interrupted, putting her book away, "what do you think makes a person a hero?"

"They have to be strong," Thor answered at once. "Big and strong. They have to be huge and powerful." Frigga seemed displeased with Thor's answer.

"Thor, Loki," Frigga said gently, patting her lap. "Come here, and let me tell you a story."

Two pairs of blue and green eyes lit up at those words. Frigga's stories were favorites of Thor and Loki's. The two wet Princes ran barefoot out of the water, water dripping off of them.

A very wet Thor reached Frigga first and settled comfortably on her lap, effectively ruining her dress. There wasn't room for Loki, so he settled at his mother's feet.

"It it a 'tory about heroes?" demanded Thor excitedly.

Frigga nodded with her warm smile. "Yes, darling. It is a story about heroes."

After a moment's pause, Frigga began. "Once upon a time," she said, "in a deep, dark forest, there lived a group of rabbits."

"Rabbits?" demanded Thor. "Mama, rabbits are for babies."

"Whoever said that?" asked Frigga mildly. "I love rabbits, and I'm not a baby."

"Keep going, Mummy," whined Loki, tugging on Frigga's skirt. And so she did.

"And the leader of the rabbits was a beautiful, strong, powerful snow-white rabbit. He told great stories of having bested lions, tigers, and even panthers. Everybody loved him."

"Oh! Mummy, is he the hero?" Thor said. Frigga just gave a knowing smile and continued the story.

"And there was another rabbit," she said. "He was nowhere as beautiful as the white rabbit. He was small, thin with black fur, and hated speaking in public."

"Did he beat up a lion too?" said Loki eagerly.

Frigga shook her head. "No, the little black rabbit was more quiet, and preferred reading books and studying."

"Oh," chorused Loki and Thor, their interest in the black rabbit rapidly fading.

"Well, one day, a group of hunters found the rabbits," said Frigga. "The rabbits had never been attacked before, so they had no idea of where to go."

"What did the white rabbit do?" Thor said, bouncing up and down on her lap.

"Nothing," said Frigga unexpectedly. "There was nothing the white rabbit could do, you see. The hunters had long, very sharp spears, and a rabbit can't stand against that."

"But the black rabbit had an idea," went on Frigga. "He decided to…"

"…attack the hunters?" cut in Loki, green eyes huge in his small face. Frigga laughed.

"No, dear," she said. "No, the little black rabbit had a different plan. He knew of another field for the rabbits to escape to, and he told the white rabbit. Then, he went and hopped in front of the hunters, and caught their attention."

"But he could've been killed!" gasped Thor in horror.

"That's true, Thor," said Frigga. "But that didn't matter to the black rabbit. He got the hunters' attention, and ran in the opposite direction of the other rabbits."

Both children were listening with rapt attention. "The hunters began chasing the black rabbit," continued Frigga, "and that gave the other rabbits enough time to escape."

"What happened to the black rabbit?" whispered Thor, white rabbit completely forgotten.

Frigga sent the both looks of sympathy. "The hunters were too fast, darlings," she said. "They got him."

Loki's green eyes filled with tears, and Thor sniffled. Frigga squeezed their hands. "Now, who do you think was the hero?" she asked. "The white rabbit or the black one?"

"The black," they both echoed.

Frigga nodded, pleased that her lesson had gone so well. "You see, the black rabbit wasn't big and strong, but he was a hero all the same. It doesn't matter how powerful you are—even the smallest person can become a hero."

"Then what makes you a hero?" asked Loki.

Frigga took his shell-pink hand and pressed it to his heart. "This does," she said softly, and the two princes looked at her in mixed confusion.

After kissing each boy on the head, Frigga sent them off to play.

 _—_

 ** _(the past)_**

"Brother, where are you?"

Loki said nothing, hoping that Thor would simply just go away, but his older brother was persistent. The golden-haired prince spotted Loki sitting on the grass at the edge of the cliff, hugging his knees.

It was nearly midnight, but Loki had left the raucous party early, tired of the drunken songs and idiotic ramblings. He now sat on the grassy fields at the edge of the woods behind the palace, alone with his thoughts.

Well, not alone anymore. Thor sat down next to Loki, fingers absently running though Loki's hair. It was a habit of Thor's, and while Loki would usually yell at him, this time it was slightly comforting.

"Why'd you leave so early?" Thor asked once Loki made it clear he wasn't in the mood for conversation. His hand shifted from Loki's hair to its accustomed spot at the back of his neck.

"For obvious reasons," Loki snapped back. "I have no desire to sit around drinking that foul drink, and listening to the babbles of drunken fools."

Thor was quiet for a moment, biting back a retort. Frigga had asked him, even _pleaded_ with him to make an effort to mend the rift that was growing between him and Loki. He swallowed his sarcastic answer, and simply said, "Fair enough."

After another silence, Thor tried again. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking at the stars."

Thor's first instinct was to mock his answer, but Frigga's words ran in his mind. _Thor, please, at least try,_ she had said. _Loki is different from you, I know that. Just ask him questions about his books or whatever he's doing, instead of making fun._

"What are you looking at, specifically?" Thor attempted. Loki gave him a surprised look, but answered anyway.

"Lie back," he said, and the two brothers did, raven locks mingling with gold. Loki pointed his slender, pale arm. "Now, look."

To his surprise, Thor couldn't help but note that the stars _were_ beautiful. Never had he just lain back and looked at the stars, but he found it surprisingly calming and peaceful.

"Can you point out the constellations to me?" Thor asked, proud of himself. He felt even better when he saw Loki's eyes light up in delight.

Thor _tried_ to listen, really, he did, but it was so utterly boring. Loki was telling him the origins of the naming of this constellation and that one, but Thor became caught up simply watching Loki speak. A great change came over him, with a rosy flush to his pale cheeks with emerald-green eyes shining. He sounded animated, too, and very passionate.

At one point, Loki just turned his head to Thor and smiled lazily at him. "You weren't listening to a word I said, were you?" he asked, but he didn't sound annoyed, just amused.

Thor smiled but didn't answer. "Why do you love the stars so much?" he answered.

Loki turned his head to meet Thor's eyes. "You'll laugh, it's kind of silly," he warned, but Thor could tell by the tone of his voice that he _really_ wanted Thor to ask anyways.

So Thor did. "I won't," he promised.

"You can do great things in your life," Loki said after a pause. "You could climb the highest mountain, be the greatest warrior Asgard has ever seen, or be the most learned, wisest intellect in the Nine Realms."

His green eyes stared at the stars again, lost in his own world. "But it wouldn't make the slightest difference to the stars," he said. "No matter what, the stars, they'll just be _there_. Cold, reliable, unyielding. The Golden Age of Asgard will come, and eventually it'll go. But through it all…the stars will remain the same."

"I guess it sort of humbles me," Loki smirked without humor. "I mean, the two of us could surely use a bit of humbling. We're the Princes of Asgard, the sons of the All-Father and the All-Mother. But doesn't it make you feel a lot less proud and arrogant, just thinking about the stars?" Loki scoffed. "Because honestly, nothing lasts forever."

Thor could only half understand what Loki was saying, mainly entranced by the dramatic way he highlighted his voice and the clear passion and depth with which he spoke. "Yeah," He answered.

Loki laughed abruptly. "I expect I'm boring you," he said, springing lightly to his feet with a feline grace. "Come, let's go back inside."

Thor scrambled to his feet, watching Loki's silhouette, half-illuminated by the silvery moonlight. He felt as if he ought to say something, and opened his mouth to speak. Loki tipped his head expectantly, but Thor could tell that Loki really, _really_ wanted to hear something. But what was it?

Not for the first time, Thor wished his brother wasn't so damn complicated. For the life of him, Thor couldn't figure out what to say, so feeling like the worst big brother of all time, he closed his mouth, smiled and shrugged. Loki answered with a smile of his own, but Thor got the impression that he was disappointed.

"Come on," Loki said again, turning and beginning to leave.

On an impulse, Thor reached out and grabbed his shoulder. Loki turned around slowly, meeting his eyes. "What?" Loki asked, poking Thor's arm playfully. "You're acting all weird."

"Just a slight disagreement I had about something you said," Thor answered, keeping his tone light and carefree though he felt anything but. "You said that nothing lasts forever."

"Yes," said Loki cautiously, vivid green eyes searching Thor's electric blue ones. "What of it?"

"I don't think that's entirely right," said Thor just as hesitantly, because he was treading dangerous ground here.

When Thor didn't elaborate, Loki prompted him. "Oh?" he asked, adding just enough of a trace of mocking to rile Thor. "Then what do _you_ believe lasts forever?"

Thor knew he would sound like an idiot, but said it anyways. "Love."

Loki snorted. "Are we really going there?"

"Yes." Thor was adamant.

"Very well," sighed Loki, with the air of a disinterested schoolteacher, "I'll humor you. In your own life, who's love are you specifically talking about?"

Thor bit his lips, getting an uneasy feeling. "Uh, my love, for, well, _you_."

"Not the best one you could've chosen," said Loki. He took a step closer to Thor.

"Tell me, _brother_ ," began Loki, face inches away from Thor's, "if I went rogue, if I left Asgard and found myself an army, a _savage_ one, mind you, and if I used said army to attack Asgard, would you still love me?"

Thor's pulse was racing. "Don't be ridiculous. That'll never happen."

"Ah, but can you tell the future, Thor?" asked Loki, circling Thor like he was prey. "If I utterly _destroyed_ Asgard and throned myself king, if I killed Father and Mother and _laughed_ the whole while doing it," Loki's voice rose higher and more powerful in pitch, and Thor's palms began to sweat, "if I kicked you down to your knees and held a knife to your throat and demanded of you, _Do you love me?,_ what would you have said?"

Silence.

All of the universe, the planets spinning in their orbits, all of nature growing, the birds flying, everything stopped in its tracks. Waiting for Thor's answer.

Dozens of eternities passed as Thor thought over the heavily weighed question. He searched his feelings, searched himself, and found the truth.

"I would've said yes."

The calm, collected, manipulative person standing in front of him crumbled into a sobbing young boy, seeking his older brother. Thor's arms were suddenly full of Loki, and the trickster was pressing his face into Thor's chest, crying.

Thor ran his hands through Loki's hair, gently rubbing his back as he murmured soothing words into Loki's ear. This, he was good at. This, he could do.

"You're an idiot," said Loki at last, half-laughing and half-crying with voice heavily muffled. "A half-brained idiot."

Thor smiled. "I know."

"I love you."

Thor pulled Loki back and stared into his eyes. "I know. And I love you, too."

Loki smiled, and he seemed a good deal happier than he had been in the past couple of months. "Let's go inside now," he said, and Thor nodded, slinging his arm over Loki's shoulder. Slowly, they walked back.

Together.

—

 ** _(the present)_**

Loki knew why Maximoff picked those memories—well, they were fairly obvious. He should've been annoyed at her rummaging about in his head, but the relief and peace those childhood memories brought outweighed the irritation.

"Ready now?" Her voice was quiet.

Loki gave a jerky little nod, and with a twist of her fingers, Maximoff raised the knife a second time, and pressed it against Loki's neck.

He suppressed a shudder, closing his eyes and filling his mind with memories of Frigga. Loki opened his eyes.

"Do it," he said, voice raspy and low.

And with a soft inclination of the head, Wanda flicked her fingers and pressed the blade home.

—

"Room 201, right?"

Thor was pacing back and forth restlessly. Tony had tracked Loki's signature down to an apartment, and the damned elevator was taking forever to appear.

"Yes," said Tony, eyeing the elevator. His gaze darted to the stairs. "Stairs?"

"Yeah," answered Thor, and the two of them raced up the stairs as fast as their feet could carry them.

Room 201 was the first door in the corridor. Thor grabbed the handle quickly and gave it a jerk. Locked.

Tony began to pull out a lock-picking tool, but with a quick slam Thor broke open the door. "Or you could do it that way," mumbled Tony.

They were just in time to see Wanda stab the blade right into Loki's neck.

—

Loki was feeling lightheaded and somewhat dizzy now. There was pain, oh so _much_ pain, but he was ignoring it, and it faded into a throb in the background.

There were voices, a collage of voices blended together. Loki could hardly see anyone.

Oh hell, was that Thor? It probably wasn't, but he could imagine it was. He was saying something, something indistinct. Soft hands were stroking Loki's hair and oh god, it felt _so fucking nice…._

Something was murmured into his ear inaudibly, and lips were pressing against his forehead. Loki groaned, twisting feverishly.

Peace, he needed peace.

Then a long-haired figure was cupping his forehead, and all faded to black.

—

 _"Father!" Loki screamed, wind whipping his hair back wildly, with green cape flapping. "Did I do it? Did I finally make you proud?"_

 _A single blue eye, full of love and compassion and understanding stared down upon him. "No, Loki," Odin uttered. "I was already proud."_

 _Loki closed his eyes. This, this was the closure he'd finally needed. He smiled faintly, the last smile to ever curve his lips._

 _And then he let go._

—


	2. 4 Times Loki Didn't Break Down and Cry

**4 Times Loki Didn't Break Down and Cry, and 1 Time He Did**

 **Word Count: 10k+**

 **Characters: Loki, Thor, Sif, The Warriors Three, Gamora, Frigga**

 **Trigger Warnings: Descriptions of violence in Part IV, and LOADS of angst. I mean it.**

 **Status: Complete**

—

 ** _Part I_**

Loud, boisterous laughter echoed off the walls gaily, and overlapping merry voices could be heard from all the way down the hall.

"I swear, Thor, the look on your face!" cried Sif, with a lively peal of laughter, the flames of the red-orange firelight flickering over her beautiful face. "Oh gods, I'm never going to forget it, am I?"

Thor laughed with her, though he didn't really know what he was laughing at. He was overwhelmed with a warm sense of belonging and fun, gaze flickering over the gay faces of his closest friends. He felt at home here, and at that moment, all would be right in the world if it hadn't been for the absence of Loki.

Idly following the good-natured bickering of the Warriors Three and Sif, Thor's thoughts wandered off to his younger brother. Loki and Thor, while not in a fight, were beginning to drift further and further away from each other. It was natural, Sif had assured him. They both had entirely different interests and while Thor was very sociable, Loki was more of the quiet sort and preferred being alone.

Thor wasn't an idiot, he knew life wouldn't be like how it was when they were kids, with Loki always at Thor's heels. But why did he feel so empty inside? More than once, he had caught himself about to say something to a Loki who should've been at his side, but wasn't.

"'Evening, brother," murmured a silvery, smooth voice. Fandral and Volstagg quieted their voices, and all eyes fell on the slender, graceful figure that emerged from the shadows.

Thor felt glad at the sight of his brother, though the atmosphere in the room visibly tensed, fun and lightheartedness draining away. He smiled in answer to Loki.

Loki was lightly clad in his customary colors of black and green, and on lithe feet he walked over, and sat down next to Hogun. He courteously nodded his head to the Warriors Three and Sif.

"Greetings, Loki," said Volstagg at an attempt in conversation, "Finally ventured out of the library?"

Loki turned his cool, assessing gaze to Volstagg. "I'm surprised you even know what a library is," he returned, "since it doesn't relate directly to anything edible."

Thor and Fandral burst into hearty laughter at that, and Sif rolled her eyes and Hogun sighed. "You should've come with us, Loki," said Thor after composing himself. "It would've been fun, and another set of hands would've been useful."

"Not really," said Fandral. "Loki doesn't use hands, he just uses his tricks, doesn't he?"

Well, way to dampen the mood, Fandral, thought Thor. Loki was sensitive about his so-called 'tricks' and Thor learned not to tease him about it, but others didn't catch on much later.

The tightening around Loki's lips was visible. "I wouldn't call my magic _tricks_ , Fandral," said Loki, rage barely suppressed in his voice. "Since it left you on your rear during training, just last week."

Thor was relieved, because he could tell that Loki was clearly making an effort to keep the peace instead of biting back with his hurtful remarks. Sif, who had considerably less to drink than the others, was frowning thoughtfully at Loki.

But Fandral, on the other hand, had far too _much_ to drink. "At least I fought honorably," he answered carelessly, oblivious to the dangerous gleam in Loki's eye. "Not like a weak _coward_ depending on his _tricks_."

Thor winced. "Fandral…"

Loki, ignoring Thor, was already up on his feet, the reflection of the flames outlining his face dramatically. "Tricks, Fandral?" He hissed bitterly. "You call this _tricks_?"

With a twist of Loki's hands, the flames in the fire hearth rose up, rising and swirling in a deadly dance.

"Loki," began Thor in an attempt to pacify Loki, resting a palm on his shoulder. "Fandral is just.."

But Loki was too far gone. He brushed off Thor's hand savagely, glaring with a frightening intensity at Fandral. The flames danced up higher and higher. No one laughed or made a humorous comment.

The flames twisted into the shape of a lion's face, then melted into a ferocious dragon that snarled viciously.

Loki's conjuring grew more and more sophisticated, transforming the fire's flickering tongues into all sorts of complicated designs. Sif was biting her lip, looking at Loki thoughtfully, Volstagg and Fandral were staring stupidly at the fire, Hogun's face was unreadable, and Thor was just plain worried.

But that's when it all fell apart.

Thor wasn't sure _what_ Loki had been trying to do, exactly, perhaps a blossoming flower? Yet that's not what came out.

The fire roared and doubled in size, heat and intensity, emitting a large, black puff of smoke. Sif, Thor, and the Warriors Three stared wide-eyed at the dysfunctioning fire.

Then to the watchers' alarm, the fire exploded in brilliant light before dying out. The blast of heat knocked Loki backwards, and with a yelp of alarm the unsuspecting prince landed on his rear.

Silence existed for an impressive two seconds.

The room positively _burst_ with laughter, more loud and raucous than before, even Hogun himself chuckling in amusement. Fandral and Volstagg were roaring with merriment and slapping their knees, but Sif and Thor were at least attempting to calm themselves down.

"Brother, are you all right?" Thor asked, trying and failing to keep the amusement out of his voice.

The sight of Loki himself sobered him a bit, however. His younger brother was hunched over, on hands and knees with dark head bowed.

"I'm fine, you oaf, I just burned my hands," said Loki through gritted teeth, rising to his feet. His brilliantly green eyes, clear and exotic as always, were bright with unshed tears of fury and rage.

Fandral just laughed all the more. "Exactly _what_ enemy are you going to be defeating with your _tricks_ again, Loki?" he answered between gasps of chortling. "Maybe your enemies will die of _laughing_!"

That just tickled Volstagg and Fandral's humor all the more, and once again, they were off. Hogun had settled for a small smile, Sif rolled her eyes, but Thor was looking at Loki with concern in his eyes.

"Brother, are you…" He began, but without sparing him another glance, Loki whirled around and left the room.

Thor felt guilty for laughing, but at the same time he felt annoyed with Loki. Couldn't he take a joke against himself? If Thor was in that position, he knew _he_ would've laughed at himself. And anyway, it was Loki's fault for getting himself in that position in the first place. If Loki just wouldn't get so worked _up_ over everything…

In that frame of mind, Thor wasn't sure if he could comfort and soothe Loki, while withstanding bitter, curt, but hurtful remarks the whole while. But duty as the older brother compelled him, and the Crown Prince of Asgard rose to his feet.

Thor was relieved—and felt guilty for the emotion afterwards—when Sif seized his arm and pulled him back down. "Leave him be," she said, voice low. "Loki just needs some time to himself."

Despite the softness of her voice, Fandral's sharp ears picked it up. "He'll be fine, Thor," he said. "Aesir skin is stubborn and strong. He can go to the healers if it's too bad."

After those words left Fandral's mouth, however, everyone knew that Loki would never go to the healers, not even if there was a knife in his side.

And anyway, it wasn't for Loki's _hands_ that Thor felt obliged to go after him. But perhaps Sif was right, Loki probably just needed some space.

With a sigh, Thor settled back more comfortably in his chair.

—

Loki wasn't _sulking_.

No, he was just mildly displeased with the entire world and just needed a little bit of space.

He paced back and forth in his room, face flushed with humiliation and anger, and filled with the vehement desire to just _murder_ somebody.

Loki needed to calm down a bit. His mind started to drift off towards Fandral's words, but he didn't dare focus on them. Then the _voices_ would come back, and they were the last thing he needed right now.

Just _tricks_. Just fucking, stupid _tricks_. Who the hell was Fandral to say such things? Who the hell were all of Thor's friends to _laugh_ at him, when they can't do the basics of what he could?

Calm down, Odinson, Loki though, pressing his hands to the sides of his head. It's _nothing_.

And anyway, Loki shouldn't care so much about what a blond idiot who's convinced he's God's gift to women. Fandral was a fool, and Loki was a fool as well for taking his half-drunken words to heart.

Sighing, Loki pulled out his spell book. It was a very valuable one, his tutor had said, full of great spells and potions, but the problem was the huge volume was in Elvish. Loki wasn't terribly good at the almost dead language, and his tutor refused to translate it, saying it would be _good practice_. So for several hours everyday, Loki had to endure the mundane task to meticulously looking up each word or phrase in his translator, and copying it onto another blank volume.

Because Loki didn't want anyone to think he was sulking like a child, he flung the door open, then bent his head and began working.

An hour later, Loki's hot head had cooled considerably, and he was in a far better frame of mind. He slid off his seat and headed out the door, filled with good intentions of spending the rest of the night with Thor and pretending as if the 'incident' had never happened.

The sun had already set, and large, silver stars were glittering in the night sky. After popping a handful of sweets in his mouth from the kitchen, Loki headed off in the direction of Thor's room.

He halted in his tracks at the sound of his brother's voice, and Loki's gaze fell on Thor and Sif.

They were standing together on the balcony in a silvery pool of radiant moonlight, figures silhouetted. Loki felt a bitter taste in his mouth at the sight of them, with Thor in all his majesty with blood red cape falling behind him, and the beautiful Sif standing next to him.

Literally, all of Asgard saw what was happening between the two….expect for Thor himself. If Thor hadn't been Loki's brother, the whole thing would've been amusing. As it was, though, Loki felt responsible for Thor and kept trying to convince Thor that Sif was head-over-heels in love with him.

Sif would be the ideal queen. She was strikingly beautiful with ivory skin, midnight tresses, dark blue eyes and red lips. She also had a cool head, and often guided Thor gently out of foolish plans. She was sensible, practical, intelligent, and a fearsome, accomplished warrior besides.

Thor and Sif would be an absolutely beautiful couple, much like Frigga and Odin in their younger days.

It would either be Sif—Frigga's choice—or the princess Freya of Vanaheim, for political reasons only—Odin's choice. Loki hated both options, but encouraged Thor towards the former because the thought of some foreign woman being Thor's bride was unbearable.

The thought was probably childish and idiotic, but Loki felt some stupid inclination that the moment Thor got married, Loki himself would be left in the dust. Well, of _course_ that is what would happen, but Loki didn't need to be such a child over it. He preferred Freya because it would be a little while (if ever) for Thor to fall in love with her, but if he actually fell in love with Sif….

But Loki was just being a child, now. Thor's happiness was what mattered, not Loki's, and for his older brother's sake Loki hoped he would fall in love with Sif.

As his mind had wandered, Loki noted with some annoyance that he'd been standing behind a pillar, watching them for quite a while. He blinked, and made to go and interrupt their 'moment'. Thor may eventually fall for Sif, but that didn't mean Loki could prevent it for as long as possible.

The sound of his name being mentioned, however, was enough to keep him rooted to the spot.

"…something funny about Loki," Sif was saying, looking annoyingly _gorgeous_ in the loose, flowing silver-blue gown she was wearing. "He's acting kind of strange, isn't he?"

Thor frowned, and Loki gave Sif a confused look. _Everyone_ , even the Warriors Three, knew that gossiping about Loki to Thor never ended well.

Loki felt even more confused when Thor didn't brush her off. "What do you mean by strange?" Thor asked her.

"I mean, he's just a little…" Sif gestured helplessly with her hands, "I don't know, hasn't he been acting a little _moody_ lately?"

"What do you mean." Thor's voice was flat.

Sif gave him one quick look. "It's like this, Thor," she began. "When Loki was younger, he played pranks. A _lot_ of pranks. It's in his nature—he's mischievous, he's playful."

Thor made an discouraging noise at the back on his throat.

"He's growing up, Thor, and he will continue too," said Sif. "And grown men don't play pranks. They take it to a new level."

"Your point?"

"Thor, your little brother is going to get himself into a shitload of trouble," said Sif, plunging right in. "He's not like you. When someone gets you angry, you get all worked up. You yell at them, maybe fight them, but by the next week or two it's all over. Loki isn't like that. I bet you like anything he's going to act like that never happened the next morning."

"Fandral may apologize," Sif continued, "but the whole thing won't be over, not for people like Loki. He's going to carry that in his heart for much longer, and he's going to _remember_."

"What's wrong with that?" said Thor, but it wasn't defiantly. Just weak and resigned.

"Thor, I'm going to be frank," said Sif. "Loki's going to hold up all these grudges and act as if he doesn't care in the least bit, but he will, so _very_ much. But one person can't hold that, and one day, Loki's going to explode."

Her blue eyes were focused intently on Thor's. "And Thor, explosions affect those all around them."

Loki's lips were thin. Absolutely idiotic of Sif to say all that to Thor, thought Loki, even as he tried to push away the truth of her words. If Thor's rebuke and dramatic exit weren't cruel enough, Loki would have to figure out some kind of prank to play on the future queen of Asgard.

But nothing could've prepared him for Thor's next words.

"I know."

Loki was frozen and in denial, _No, I probably heard it wrong, Thor would never…_

Even Sif seemed somewhat shocked. "What?"

"I said I _know_!" Thor snapped, voice hollow. "Everyone thinks I'm a fool when it comes to Loki, but I'm not. I know how much he lies, more than he speaks truth. I know how much pure spite are in the jokes he plays, rather than just fun and mischief. And I know how jealous he is of me too."

"Thor," started Sif, brushing her fingertips over his arm, but he was already walking away, cape whirling behind him.

Sif just stared out into the sky for a while, then turned and left too.

Loki would've left, if he could have. But he couldn't move. He was frozen, hands shaking as he slid to the floor, face white with shock.

He didn't cry.

Instead, he took Sif's words, pulled them into his heart, and _remembered_.

—

 **528 years later, on the SHIELD Helicarrier….**

 _I guess this is what Sif would call my bursting point,_ thought Loki, hand paused above the fateful button that would send Thor spiraling to his doom.

Thor was staring at him out of wild eyes, sweat and perspiration beaded on his forehead. Loki met his gaze head-on.

Swallowing down any resistance, Loki pushed the button.

And as he watched the cage tumble down in the blink of an eye, Loki exploded.

 ** _Part II_**

 **—**

Loki was very young when he had his first crush.

And he was also very young he had his first broken heart.

Natalya Rue was her name, Loki recalled. She was very lovely to look at as well, rich chestnut coils with even lily-white skin and large hazel pools for eyes. Loki had been absolutely _infatuated_ with her.

She was the daughter of one of Odin's advisors, and so she ran about the palace often if she didn't have lessons. Sif, Fandral, Volstagg, Hogun, Thor and Loki were accompanied by Natalya on various days…and that was when all the troubles began.

Loki didn't know what love was, at that innocent ripe age, but he did know that how he felt around Natalya wasn't how he felt around Sif or the other girls. His stomach would start to flutter and his pulse racing, blood rushing to his face and he would begin to stutter. His eyes would be drawn to certain things on her face, like the dimple that flashed in her rosy cheek when she smiled, or the way her eyes glowed when she laughed.

After talking to Thor and subtly asking about crushes and 'love', (obviously not mentioning any names) Loki was thoroughly certain he was in love with Natalya.

So Loki watched her carefully, searching desperately for _any_ sign that the young girl reciprocated his feelings.

Natalya was merry and gay in nature, and it was hard to find her without a smile on her face. But she could be a chatterbox and a gossip, and there was a spiteful streak in her nature at times. Yet love has made many a boy blind, and in Loki's opinion, Natalya Rue was a perfect angel surrounded by a halo of light.

But back in the day, Loki was _very_ shy and not very forthcoming. He desperately longed to tell Natalya how he felt or make some move, but he was too afraid of rejection to move forward.

And after much consideration, Loki finally took Thor into his confidence.

"Thor," said Loki earnestly, green eyes large in his narrow face. "If I tell you a secret, do you promise you won't tell anyone?"

Thor nodded his head fervently, greedy to hear the 'secret'.

So Loki told Thor. When they were younger, Loki had no such qualms about pouring his heart out to Thor, and Thor was far less prone to teasing or making fun, although he wasn't the greatest at knowing the right words to say.

"But now I don't know what to do," Loki confessed. "Should I just tell her? Do _you_ think she likes me?"

Thor's gaze went mischievous and he leaned over. "Well," he said softly, "I _have_ seen her give you many glances, more than strictly necessary, and she does laugh more loudly than called for at your jokes."

Unconsciously, Loki's cheeks began to redden. "Are you for certain?"

With a smirk, Thor ruffled up Loki's hair the wrong way, and Loki usually _hated_ that, but now he couldn't care less. "I'm positive, brother."

—

"Loki?"

Loki's heart skipped a beat, and he resisted the urge to whip around, stomach churning. He turned as casually and slowly as possible, gaze falling on Natalya.

She was smiling at him, and Loki answered with a flustered smile. "Yes?" He managed, mouth dry.

Natalya gave him a knowing look, and beckoned to him. "Can I… _talk_ to you?"

Loki unconsciously gave Thor a quick glance out of the corner of his eye. His older brother was grinning hugely, blue eyes teasing and full of mirth and fun.

"Um, yeah, yeah, ok," Loki mumbled.

He followed her out of the little group of friends, until they were alone in a little corner.

She turned around to face him, and Loki's heart nearly stopped. _Never_ in his life had he been so close to her. He could count the splash of caramel-colored freckles on her nose, and he was close enough to see the flecks on green in her eyes.

"So, Loki," she said, eyes dancing gaily, "can I get some advice?"

 _Come on, Loki, no girl will fall for a tongue-tied fool,_ Loki thought fiercely. "Depends on what the advice is," answered Loki with a merry wink.

Natalya seemed pleasantly surprised by his lack of stammering. "There's this boy I sort of like," she explained, blushing slightly, "and I wrote him a sort of note. I'm not sure if it's too sappy or whatever."

Loki could barely breathe. "Well, the letter's going to depend on who it's for."

Natalya mock sighed. "Surely you've already figured it out," she said with a teasing smirk. "I thought I'd made it pretty… _obvious_."

 _Odin's beard._ Loki's head was in the clouds right now, and he was almost dizzy at that point. "Very well," he managed, "I'll look it over."

She handed him a neat, crisp slip of pale green paper, lightly scented. Green was Loki's favorite color, and nearly _everyone_ knew that as all he wore was green.

It was a wonder that Loki could read through the whole thing, considering that Natalya's shrewd eyes were fixated on him the entire time, and even more of a wonder that he actually _understood_ what he was reading.

"It's _very_ good," Loki gasped out, cheeks reddening. In truth, while it wasn't exactly rubbish, the poetry in the note was a little sappy and prone to exaggeration, but in Loki's eyes, that note was one of the greatest things in the world.

Natalya looked pleased. "You think so?"

Loki nodded fervently, and that seemed good enough for her. Natalya thanked Loki, took the note back and left, leaving Loki hopelessly, desperately in love all over again.

—

"Are you _sure_ that's what flirting is, Thor?" Loki asked doubtfully, pacing back and forth fretfully.

Thor was flopped on Loki's bed lazily, limbs all splayed out in a most ungraceful manner. "Lo, I know all _about_ flirting," Thor said somewhat smugly. "Girls can be rather odd at times when it comes to wooing men, but I know for a _fact_ that Natalya means that note for you."

"Yes, but why didn't she just give it to me then?" demanded Loki.

Thor shrugged absently. "Girls are weird."

With a sigh, Loki flopped on the bed next to Thor. "You are _not_ a help at all, you big oaf."

There was a pause, then Thor rolled over so he was facing Loki. "Loki, it's not the end of the world," he said. "Natalya will be an idiot if she hasn't fell for you already."

Loki smirked, and poked Thor in the side, drawing out an undignified, high-pitched squeal, but then his face grew serious. "Thanks, Thor," he said.

Thor smiled sleepily. "Anytime, little brother."

—

"Oh look, what's this?" Thor gave Loki an amused look, waving a white envelope around, with the words _To Thor_ on the front. "Guess you're not the only one with a secret admirer, Loki."

"I bet it's Laurel," Loki teased happily, poking his head over Thor's shoulder. "C'mon, open it!"

"I will," answered Thor, and with a quick twist of his wrist he ripped open the delicate wrapping.

Loki froze.

The paper was _green_.

Thor, who was oblivious to Loki's frozen, shocked state, read the entire note in a quick scan, and burst out laughing. "I've got a rather silly girl, this time," he said with a mirthful grin. "It's unsigned, though. I wonder who it is."

His gaze fell on Loki's paper-white face. "What is it, Loki?" Thor asked good-naturedly, fluffing up Loki's hair absently.

With more spite and bitterness than usual, Loki pulled himself away. "It's nothing," he ground out, ignoring the growing lump in his throat.

—

Loki didn't let himself think but kept running as fast as his feet would take him. _Don't think, don't think_ , he kept telling himself.

He slowed to a stop once he felt he was far enough, standing in the woods that stood outside the palace. Loki dropped so his hands rested on his knees, closing his eyes.

What a fool he'd made out of himself.

All this time, it had been _Thor_ Natalya had wanted. And it shouldn't have come as a surprise. Of course she would prefer Thor, everybody did. Thor was handsome and strong, funny and kind and sweet and loving. Nobody wants Loki, strange, pale, skinny Loki who preferred using magic instead of honorable, true fighting.

No one was ever going to want him when Thor was around.

" _You_ were the one who sent me the note?"

Loki froze at the sound of Thor's incredulous voice, faint and distant but still audible.

Silently, he picked his way through the trees toward the sound of his brother's voice. Natalya was saying something in response, but her voice was too quiet to be understood.

And as Loki walked right in, his heart shattered. Because in the middle of a little clearing, Thor and Natalya were standing together.

More specifically, they were _kissing_ , Natalya's pretty rosebud lips on Thor's, her fingers tangled in his blond hair.

Yet that could be talked off. Natalya jumped on Thor, Natalya startled Thor, Thor didn't want to kiss her but before he could think Natalya was kissing him…

But what _couldn't_ be explained was the fact that Thor was kissing _back_ just as fervently, one hand on her hip and one in her dark hair.

Struck with the terrible feeling of betrayal, Loki wasn't able to stop his choked cry, tears blurring his vision.

Then, like the coward he was, he turned and ran, ignoring Thor's exclamation of, "Loki!"

—

"There you are," said a sharp, bitter tone as Natalya poked her head into the tree Loki was currently in. "What the Hel are you doing here?"

Swallowing down his retort, Loki blithely dropped out of the tree and landed on his feet with feline grace, a grace he most certainly did not feel at the moment.

"Are you happy now?" Natalya asked in disgust, wrinkling the nose Loki had once considered the most beautiful nose in the entire world. "You just _ruined_ my kiss with Thor."

Loki could only gape at her audacity.

"What's it to you, anyway?" Natalya said, with distaste and annoyance lacing her voice. "You literally _approved_ the stupid note I wrote for him. The moment you ran off, Thor went all ballistic and guilty and made me search for you."

For fear of either screaming in agony, laughing hysterically at his own stupidity, or bursting into tears, Loki kept silent.

"By the Norns," breathed Natalya, staring at Loki. "Did you think…the note was for _you_?"

Then, the thrice-damned girl did the worst possible thing. She started _laughing_ as if Loki's error was the most hilarious thing in the Nine.

"Is there something _wrong_?" Loki asked icily.

"Something _wrong_?!" Natalya said disbelievingly, still smiling. "You actually thought that I'd fallen for you. You being the pathetic, scrawny _freak_ who doesn't live outside the library that you are? You fight like a coward and depend on tricks to fight. You don't hold a _candle_ to Thor."

Her face was inches away from his. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I think a part of your brain may be missing."

Loki was trembling with rage. "Well, this is me," he hissed, fingers tingling with wisps of green seidr, "taking it the _wrong way_."

With a mighty flourish of his fingers, Loki teleported her to Heimdall knows where.

And then all of the fight left Loki, and he collapsed onto the ground.

—

Thor found Loki sitting in the middle of the fresh-smelling grass, head hung dejectedly.

 _You pathetic, scrawny,_ freak _!_

That was all that echoed through Loki's head. Was that really what he was? Was that _all_ he was?

 _You fight like a coward_.

He had heard this many times before, but never had he taken them to heart as much as he did at that moment. _Did_ he fight like a coward? Was he pathetic? Was he weak?

" _Loki_!" cried Thor in alarm, dropping next to his younger brother. "By the Norns, Loki, I am so, so sorry….I didn't mean it, I didn't know it was her, she just took me by surprise, and I wasn't going to…"

Once again, the pangs of betrayal crept over Loki, but more than _anything_ Loki wanted what Thor was saying to be true. So he decided to test his older brother.

"It's fine," Loki brushed off, sitting up and bringing disinterest and indifference in his gaze. He forced a smile. "I'm just getting over it, but I'm fine now."

He grabbed Thor's hands. "Thor," he said, keeping his voice as nonchalant as possible, "I want you to be honest with me. When Natalya—when she kissed you…did you _like_ it?"

Thor swallowed hard, and it was a while before he spoke again. "I swear, Loki, when you told me how you felt about her, I was sure all _I_ felt for her was just sisterly feelings," he said hesitantly, reluctance all over his face. "But after the talk in the glen, and the kiss…" his voice trailed off as he looked at Loki with earnest sorrow.

Loki's mouth was dry. "Do not be _so_ considerate of my feelings, Thor," he said lightly, lying through his teeth. "I do not care whether or not you…" he gestured vaguely with his hands, "become, er, romantically involved with Natalya."

Although Loki said it guilelessly and flawlessly, the lie did not hold a ring of truth, and he waited with dread for Thor's answer.

Thor clapped Loki on the back. "I would never dream of betraying you like that," he said openly, face honest.

 _Of course, Loki, Thor would never do such a thing,_ Loki told himself in relief.

—

Loki had never been more wrong.

In less than two months, nobody would say, 'Prince Thor', but now it was always, 'Prince Thor and Lady Natalya'.

And Loki? Well, the first time the couple kissed passionately in front of Loki, the youngest Prince of Asgard excused himself to his room.

He curled in on himself into a small ball on the corner of his bed, wishing the ground would swallow him up. He screamed and beat the walls with his fists and his view of Thor as his perfect, heroic, golden older brother was beginning to change.

But in all of that, Loki didn't dare cry.

Because crying was something a weak, pathetic coward would do.

—

 ** _Part III_**

 **—**

"Another!"

Thor's boisterous voice rang out loudly through the large, golden Asgardian hall, and his demand was accompanied by the sound of a glass cup being smashed into a thousand pieces.

Loki, standing aside in a much more formal manner, winced as he stared at the remains of the expensive glass. He didn't want to sound like a sappy environmentalist person who was concerned for the welfare of all Asgardians—because he wasn't—but Loki couldn't help but think that glass probably could've fed a homeless family for a week. At least, until Thor utterly destroyed it.

Apparently he wasn't the only one having that thought (or at least something similar to it), because several cooks and stewards were hovering around, looking annoyed.

Any other day, nobody would've cared. But this was _the_ day, the day before Prince Thor would be referred to as _King_ Thor. Yes, tonight was the night before the Crown Prince's coronation, and all of Asgard was rejoicing.

And today being what today was, the most expensive, most beautiful glasses were out. Those glasses had been out for Odin's coronation, for Odin and Frigga's wedding, and for _Borr's_ coronation. And here was a drunken Thor, destroying them like they were nothing.

Loki was tempted to let the paranoid stewards stew (A/N - See what I did there? So proud) for a little bit, but now Thor was _really_ acting drunk. It was amusing, and any other day Loki would've just watched, but he _was_ going to practically destroy Thor's special day tomorrow so Loki felt he owed it to Thor to escort him to his room.

Except for Loki and the disapproving stewards, nobody was really sober anymore. Frigga and Odin had excused themselves a while ago, and Loki couldn't really blame them. He himself couldn't understand why people _enjoyed_ getting drunk.

"Thor," Loki called loudly, walking up to the staggering warrior. "Don't drop the cups like that."

Thor turned bright, mocking eyes on Loki. "What cups?" he slurred together, raising the next glass in his hand. "Oh… _this_ one?" And with a teasing grin, Thor threw the glass on the ground with all his force.

A steward gasped before he could stop himself, but although Thor was quick in his drunken state, Loki was quicker. He caught the falling glass deftly with his magic, twisting his hands as he guided the glass back safely to the table.

Loki snapped his long fingers in front of Thor's face. "Thor, you are drunk," he said firmly, voice low enough so the gossiping maids wouldn't catch it. "You _must_ go to your room now."

"But the party's barely started!" exclaimed Thor stupidly, obviously unaware of the fact that it was currently half past one in the morning.

Yet Loki would get nowhere arguing with Thor about what the time was, precisely, so he just went with it. "I know," said Loki soothingly, "but you are to be crowned king tomorrow, Thor, and how will you enjoy the best day of your life with a splitting headache?"

Loki helpfully excluded the fact that Thor would probably already have an awful headache by the time he was crowned given the buckets he was drinking, and he also omitted the _tiny_ little detail that tomorrow would _not_ be the best day of Thor's life, if things were to go at all Loki's way.

"Fine," grumbled Thor, and unthinkingly he used Loki's arm to drag himself up, with only resulted in the two of them spilling onto the ground in an undignified tangle of arms and legs.

" _Fool_!" snapped Loki, brushing aside a nervous servant's help and dragging all of Thor's heavy bulk up painstakingly.

It took a great deal of work, but eventually Loki managed to pull Thor all the way up to his room. "You're welcome," mumbled Loki, opening the door and shoving Thor in there unceremoniously.

After watching Thor fumble around with his clothing with a sardonically arched brow, Loki scowled and stepped into the room after his older brother.

"You can't do _anything_ without me, can you?" he asked, not expecting an answer.

Struggling Thor into his clothing was surprisingly hard, especially when the Thor in question was utterly drunk and refusing to cooperate. But at last Thor was out of his ceremonial armor and dressed in his simple nighttime tunic and trousers, and Loki hurriedly got him into bed.

"Goodnight, you big oaf," said Loki at last, turning to leave. "Tomorrow's going to be a _very_ important day in Asgard's history, and I'm locking the door to make sure you don't drag some random girl in here. I swear, if you bring some poor maid in here, it'll be written all over Asgard's history books."

There isn't a reply, and with a feeling of satisfaction Loki realized Thor was asleep. But he was proven mistaken when Thor's voice called him back.

"Loki," began his older brother's hesitant voice, "will you stay with me?"

Loki's eyebrows shot up alarmingly. It had been a long time since Loki had last slept in Thor's bed, and he'd rather not do it tonight, for fear of being overwhelmed by sentimental feelings. Loki could spare no room for sentiment for what he had to do tomorrow.

But Thor seemed to guess where his thoughts were going too…a drunk Thor wasn't a fully stupid Thor. "Not here in the bed," Thor said sleepily, forcing himself to sit up, "but when I'm king. I can't do everything myself, and I'll need your help. You won't go wandering off like you always do?"

Loki felt something unwanted and bitter rise in his mouth. Of _course_ that was how Thor would want it. Thor would prance around in all his glory and might, the handsome, brave, _strong_ King of Asgard and Protector of the Nine Realms. Whereas on the other hand, Loki would be backstage, making all the hard decisions with the tact, skill and diplomacy Thor did not have but lacked badly, and Loki would receive none of the credit and remain in the shadow of Thor's greatness.

There was a time when Loki would've spat out exactly what he thought about Thor's inconsiderate words, but now he was more restrained. "That depends," said Loki lightly, masterfully steering them out of an emotional, brotherly conversation he did _not_ need to have right now.

"Depends on _what_?"

"On how much you show your appreciation for me," said Loki with a sly wink, preparing to ask for the envied daggers Thor had gotten from Vanaheim.

Thor's reaction surprises him. Brilliant blue eyes teasing and locked on Loki's, Thor slides down to the floor on one knee and presses a palm flat on the ground. "Prince Loki Odinson of Asgard, Dearest Brother Mine, with all of my heart, I humbly beseech thee as…"

Loki should've felt some smug satisfaction at the sight of Thor on his knees before him—mockery though it was, yet all Loki could feel was a strong sense of _wrongness_ , and bile rose in his throat.

Quickly, Loki put out a hand and yanked Thor to his feet. "Get up, you idiot," he said dryly, ignoring his racing heart. "If this is what you call charming, it's a wonder you get any girls in your bed."

Thor winked at Loki. "You'd be surprised," he said. "Why, there was this one…"

"Ah, ah, ah," Loki cut him off loudly, "I really _don't_ need to hear about my older brother's sexual exploits."

A familiarly large, rough, calloused palm threaded its way into Loki's hair and fondly rumpled it up. "I love you, Loki."

What was this sudden lump in Loki's throat? "Me too," Loki managed, mouth dry.

The fact that Thor was drunk suddenly crashed down on Loki. And when Thor was drunk, he had the tendency to be far more open with his feelings.

"I don't know if I've wronged you somehow," Thor was saying earnestly. He was pressed up close to Loki, and his hand was resting on its familiar place at the back of his neck. It was a childhood gesture meant to soothe, but all Loki could feel was its heavy, heavy weight. "You've been so distant to me lately, Loki," went on Thor, "have I done something? Is there anything I can do to fix it?"

Oh goddamnit, were those _tears_ prickling at the back of his eyes? At least Thor wouldn't remember this in the morning.

 _Anything to fix it? You've already done enough,_ Loki wanted to spit in Thor's face. But he kept his voice cool. "It's nothing, we're just growing up, Thor," he lied fluently. "You can't expect me to tag behind you forever."

Thor didn't answer and stepped back from Loki, still pinning his younger brother with the weight of his gaze. "I'll always be there for you, you know?" he asked, voice soft. "If you ever need me, I'll be here."

Loki was seething inwardly. _You fucking dare to say that? After all you put me through…_

He forced himself to calm down. This wasn't for revenge, it was for the good of Asgard. It was very likely that Loki was the only one not blinded by Thor's radiance enough to see how incapable and naive the Crown Prince was.

Loki probably should've said something about how he would be there for Thor always, too, but all he could manage was a weak, "I know."

And before Loki could ooze out more disgusting sentiment, he whirled around and left the room, as he should've done ten minutes ago.

—

Loki couldn't sleep.

That obviously was explainable, considering he was committing treason and basically destroying his brother's coronation, and if he was fretting about tomorrow going perfectly, it was understandable.

What _wasn't_ understandable or acceptable was the fact that he was stressing about Thor.

One drunken night's sentimental rumblings shouldn't strike out decades, even _centuries_ of hurt, confusion, pain and bitterness.

Or can it?

With a bitter snarl, Loki leapt out of bed and began pacing. He _hated_ Thor, right? Using his magic to project the images, he summoned up his worst memories of his brother—Thor going out riding with the Warriors Three and Sif without considering asking Loki, Thor laughing at Loki whenever his 'tricks' failed, and Thor, furious when Loki cut of Sif's hair but amused when Fandral burned Loki's spell books.

Loki stared at the projection on the wall, feeling a surge of wild, fierce, bottled-up anger just waiting to explode. _There_.

He was about to remove the flickering set of moving images, but before he would stop himself the memories slipped into golden ones—Thor refusing to go on a strongly-anticipated journey with Tyr and his friends because Loki was sick, Thor recklessly risking his life for Loki on an ill-fated adventure gone wrong, Thor in all his rage when he heard village boys mocking Loki.

Loki was the god of lies, but he wasn't going to lie to himself now. He hated Thor….and loved him too.

He would poison Thor then spend every waking minute nursing him back to health, Loki would throw a knife at Thor then rush to intercept the blade's path with his body.

Was it even _possible_ to love someone so much, and hate them so venomously too?

But this wasn't going to change anything, Loki told himself, gazing out of his window into the moonlit grounds outside.

He took in a deep, shuddering breath, and let it out slowly, a rumbling shudder shaking his frame. By the Norns, he wasn't going _cry_ , was he?

And for a moment, it seemed as if Loki would.

But he didn't. With another slow breath, Loki wiped away any last trace of emotion and steeled his nerves. This _sentiment_ was absolutely ridiculous.

Thor would _never_ be king as long as Loki was alive, and the burden of the throne will fall to Loki.

With a savage, feral grin, Loki tore himself away from the window. He would need to get his rest.

Tomorrow would be a _big_ day.

 ** _Part IV_**

 **—**

"Sweet dreams, Asgardian scum."

Loki hadn't the strength to answer with a snarky reply as the Chitauri soldier threw him unceremoniously into the small, dark cell. White hot pain exploded in his abused side as it collided harshly with the ground, but Loki had already screamed himself hoarse and now, there simply was no energy left to scream again.

The heavy metal door closed with a slam. There was the rattle of thick chains, the turn of a key, and then Loki was left in silence.

His internal magic was working at top rate, and any other time Loki would've been healed within the hour. But the Chitauri had found it amusing to see his magic mend broken skin or knit bones back together, and now Loki's magic was utterly drained. It would be well over a day before it could summon the strength needed to heal.

The Chitauri could be handled, Loki knew, but once they had their 'fun' with Loki, he'd been tied up under a giant, venomous, snake-like creature that was deep in sleep, and acid drops of burning poison dripped from its fangs, poison that could eat away at a person's skin.

Any mortal would die an agonizing death after the first five minutes. Yet Loki's magic-both a blessing and a curse—kept healing him after each drop, but after the worst hour Loki had ever endured, his magic slowed down considerably.

Loki pulled himself up to a halfway sitting position instead of his humiliating slouch on the ground, the quickening of his harsh, ragged breathing being the only testimony to his pain.

He'd been in this hellhole for God knows how long. The days were endless, long, and utterly awful, and Loki would've wasted away if it hadn't been for the one bright spot in his life—Gamora.

She was a strange being, supposedly the 'daughter' of Thanos but Loki knew Gamora didn't consider him her real father. She seemed to be an odd mixture of Thor and Loki himself, possessing Loki's sharp wit and quick, intelligent mind but also unfortunately containing Thor's brash arrogance and compassionate heart underneath all that indifference.

The green-skinned assassin was too clever for Loki to manipulate, and there was no hope of escape through her. So Loki contented himself with her company, appreciating the existence of someone who wasn't going to beat him just for the fun of it. Gamora would torture if the need arose, but she took no pleasure from it.

His thoughts were unfortunately beginning to drift to Thor now, his stupid, idiotic, imbecile of a _not_ -brother. Right now, Thor probably knew of Loki's origin and true parentage, and there was no doubt that his once older brother now despised him.

But there was hope, hope deep within Loki, hope that Thor at least cared for Loki a little bit. It was foolish to hope, yet Loki did anyway. Pain was real, Loki knew that all too well, but so was hope, if only Loki clung to it.

Maybe it was just Loki, but it was getting uncharacteristically cold in here. Loki let out an involuntary shudder, hastily retracting his fingers from the now-cold floor.

Okay, now it _definitely_ wasn't just Loki. The damned room was absolutely _freezing,_ and Loki was huddled in on himself in an attempt to conserve as much body heat as possible. It was growing harder to feel his fingers, and Loki bit his lip anxiously, not needing to add frostbite to the list of injuries he currently had.

Not to mention the fact that the cold air was feeling awful on the sores and bruises all over his body. There _was_ a way to end all of this right now….but Loki stubbornly refused to even consider it.

Well, that mindset was going to change fast. The temperature was dropping very quickly, and the choice was now a matter between Loki's life or Loki's pride.

In the end, the argument that eventually won him over was the fact that resisting was probably something the prideful Thor would do. With a long-suffering sigh, Loki exhaled slowly and let his skin shift into its original color.

Rich, violet-blue slipped quickly through the milky-white of Loki's skin, contaminating it like some kind of disease, and Loki knew without looking that his eyes had changed into that horrible, blood-red ruby color.

But Loki didn't have time to fret over that when he gasped audibly in relief, the cold air nothing to him. As a matter of fact, it felt rather good, the way an Aesir Loki felt when sliding into a warm bath. Jotun skin, too, was apparently quickly mended. The cold now soothed his wounds instead of irritating them, and Loki felt his magic stir with a new invigorating energy.

The problem was, now that Loki was no longer in such overwhelming pain, the humiliation of being in this form caught up with him. What _would_ all of Asgard say if they saw him in this state? They would be shocked, horrified, and mutter about how they always knew there was something wrong with the second Prince of Asgard. Thor would look away, utterly repulsed. Frigga _may_ be kinder to him, but it would all be out of pity, hiding her disgust at her Jotun so-called son. And Odin…Loki didn't even want to think about the All-Father's reaction.

Loki wished with all his heart that he could just fall asleep now, but his mind simply wouldn't allow it. He felt overcome with a sudden hysterical urge to either laugh, cry, scream, or do all three simultaneously.

Was it just Loki, or was it getting _warmer_ in here?

Loki cursed Thanos, the Chitauri, Nebula, or whoever was doing this to him. Unfortunately, he didn't have the body of a Fire Giant (or whatever the hell they'd be called) stashed away somewhere.

After the temperature grew even moderately uncomfortable for Loki's Jotun skin, he all-too-gladly slipped into his Aesir skin. It was a little chilly, but Loki had the feeling it was going to get warm fast. Maybe a little _too_ warm.

That was the understatement of the century. The temperature when from a sunny winter day to a cozy summery day, to a _hot_ summer's day, to a blazingly hot desert summer's day.

Loki closed his eyes in agony, chest heaving as his body screamed for water. The temperature was rising steadily, and the ground was burning to the touch. Not that there was much Loki could do about that, considering he had to _stay_ on the ground.

Loki was growing dizzy now, head aching horribly and stomach churning nauseously, and the front strands of his hair, once matted with dried blood, were now drenched with sweat and stuck to his forehead. His face was flushed red, pulse abnormally quick with skin sweaty and clammy.

Thick beads of sweat slipped down and stung Loki's eye, and all he could see was tinged with red. Loki moaned helplessly, head falling to one side as his eyes fluttered shut. Everything _hurt_ and his head was aching, gaze swimming and palms burning.

"Loki?"

That _voice_. Loki's eyes opened sluggishly, heart rate quickening unintentionally when he saw who it was.

 _Odin._

Loki too far gone to bother figuring out how the King of Asgard appeared in his cell, seemingly by magic. All he knew was that he needed _out_ of here, and Odin could help.

"Odin King, _Father_ ," Loki begged, adding the endearment at the end as an additional plea, "Please, I beg of you, get me out of here."

Odin just smiled at Loki, ignoring his pleas. "Loki," he said, single blue eye filled with amusement, "I am _very_ proud of you."

"I—" Loki began, preparing to snap something sharp back, but Odin beat him to it.

"My whole purpose in taking you from Jotunheim," Odin plunged on, voice flat and emotionless, "was to brighten the light of Thor in front of your shadow, and I can't believe how well you've done. You were a pathetic, weak, cowardly child, and you went _beyond_ my expectations and committed treason, killed innocent mortals, and attempted to kill Thor." A rare twinkle shone in his eye. "Really, _Laufeyson,_ you shouldn't have."

Loki's jaw dropped as he stood stock-still. Of _all_ the things he expected Odin to say, this wasn't it.

And damn, he was surprised at how much it _hurt_ , stomach churning within him. He opened his mouth, but his silver tongue failed him, and Loki could only stare dumbly at Odin.

With a harsh chuckle, Odin disappeared.

"Loki?"

Once again, another voice calling out his name struck a chord.

"Frigga?" Loki mumbled weakly, voice parched and dry, with hope rising unintentionally in his throat. "All-Mother, _Amma_ , please, get me out of here, I beg of you."

His heart sank when he saw the derisive, disgusted look on Frigga's beautiful, regal face. " _Amma_?" Frigga spat out incredulously. "How _dare_ that word fall from your filthy Jotun lips?"

Loki's world was flying into hundreds of pieces. No matter what Odin would say, _Frigga_ was the one person who would understand, who would insist Loki was still her little beautiful baby boy even as Loki insisted he was the monster.

Never had he imagined it would be the other way around.

"You are _no_ son of mine," Frigga spat out haughtily, and she, too, disappeared in a shower of golden sparks.

If Loki's magic wasn't so depleted and useless already, he would've conjured up a dagger and stabbed himself.

Everything in the room began to grow fuzzy, and when Loki blinked, suddenly, he wasn't in his cell anymore. He was standing in the middle of a whirling blizzard on Jotunheim, sharp bits of snow stinging his face. The stink of dead bodies reached his nose, but Loki had become so accustomed to it in Thanos' halls that he didn't retch.

"Loki!"

Out of the swirling, spinning snow, a dark shape could be made out. "Thor?" Loki tried, far too afraid of his reaction to call him 'brother'. "What are you doing here?"

Thor completely disregarded his question, finally becoming fully visible as he stopped in front of Loki. He was dressed for battle, leather and armor caked with fresh Jotun blood, and as he swung Mjolnir at his side, she sang with bloodlust.

A faint smile was hovering over Thor's lips, and he smelt of blood, sweat and ozone, crackling with electricity. Staring at his brother, Loki couldn't help but feel a dawning sense of horror.

Smirking, Thor spun Mjolnir idly in his hands until all that could be seen was a rapid grey blur. "Why do you look at me so?" Thor asked, amused. "I've already defeated all of the enemy."

Thor was stepping closer to Loki now, blue eyes half-playful but toned with solemnity. A rough, calloused hand cupped Loki's jaw and gently pulled it up to meet Thor's eyes, thumb brushing over Loki's frantically beating pulse.

"Well," said Thor with a light chuckle, "perhaps not. I believe I missed one."

The hand dropped, and Thor smiled before raising Mjolnir to deliver the final, killing blow.

—

Loki awoke with a shout.

More accurately, a _scream_.

His nails dug into the now-cool ground as Loki writhed helplessly, screaming, half from pain and half from despair. Everything was on fire, burning and forcing scream after scream from Loki's raw throat.

Oh Norns, no, he was going to cry….

Suddenly, there were footsteps, but Loki didn't want to hear it. "Leave, Thor," he gasped out between cries of pain, "I swear, I won't…"

"Shh, shh," a gentle, female voice was murmuring soothingly, and Loki was aware of a presence dropping to the ground beside him.

That didn't placate him at all.

"Frigga," he managed in his delirious state, scrabbling away, "I'm sorry, I'm so, so, sorry, Mother…" Loki cringed inwardly as that unintentional affectionate term slipped from his lips.

A cool hand was rubbing his hair lightly. "I'm not—" began the voice, but Loki interrupted.

"I know you can't call me your son," he said stupidly, fully aware of the act he was blabbering, "and I know I'm a monster, but…"

"You're not a monster, Loki," Frigga said softly. "And you'll always be my son."

"But you said…" Loki started frantically.

"You were hallucinating," she contradicted, "it was the heat."

It was as if a huge weight was taken off his shoulders. "Really?" Loki sounds like a child, but he couldn't care less.

"Truly," answered the mollifying voice. There was a sudden, erratic pause. "I love you, my son."

Loki let out a contented sigh, happy despite the extreme, taxing pain his body was in. "I love you too, Mother."

As Frigga rose to leave, it may just have Loki's feverish state, but he could've sworn he saw a flash of green skin.

—

 ** _+1_**

"You couldn't allow me to see her funeral."

Thor was wrapped in a dark cloak, dark blond strands of hair spilling over his shoulders. Grief made his eyes dark, but there was a steely resolve and determination behind them that wasn't usually seen.

"I asked Odin," said Thor after giving Loki an undecipherable look, irritating Loki as he wasn't able to read Thor as well as he was able to before. "But he said no."

Loki offered Thor a cold sneer, staring at him through the golden barrier that separated them. "I can't imagine you tried terribly hard."

"I didn't," answered Thor bluntly. "Because I knew what the answer was going to be. You made your choices, Loki. We can't risk the lives of all the other Asgardians."

Loki didn't answer. With a heavy sigh, Thor bowed his head wearily.

"Why are you here?" Loki asked finally.

Silence. The weight of it rested heavily on Loki's shoulders.

Much to Loki's relief, Thor broke it at last. "I know not myself," he said, voice laced with bitterness and sorrow. He let out a harsh, dry, curt bark of laughter. "Perhaps a part of me hoped that I could grieve with my little brother."

Loki swallowed hard, mouth dry as sawdust. "Perhaps," he said. "But then that part of you would be wrong."

And that was when Thor _exploded._

The filmy golden barrier, the only thing protecting Loki from Thor's rage, vanished with the push of a button. Then Thor was inside, a hand roughly gripping the front of Loki's shirt and forcing him backwards.

An involuntary groan escaped Loki's lips as his back collided painfully with the wall of the cell. "Do not dare to act so indifferent, Loki," said Thor in a low voice, filled with barely suppressed rage and anger. "She _loved_ you. How many times have I seen our mother crying for you, spending _hours_ explaining a spell to you, comforting you? Frigga loved you like a son."

Thor's furious words were affecting Loki far more than he would admit, so he had to say _something,_ something to say he didn't care. "She may have loved me like a mother," answered Loki, voice so soft and dry it didn't sound like his. "But she wasn't. Frigga was never my mother."

Thor let out an enraged cry and slammed Loki against the wall a few more times. The prisoners surrounding them watched idly with fascination, enjoying the show and secretly glad they weren't in Loki's face. The rage of Thor was certainly a sight to behold. But this was Thor and Loki's moment, and in the spur of the moment Loki used what little magic he had to set up a barrier around them, shielding them from prying eyes.

There was a time when Thor would've hurled Loki onto the ground, screamed at him, maybe even kicked him if he were angry enough, and then left. But now, since Thor was disgustingly sentimental, he took a few deep breaths to calm himself, head dropping.

Loki chanced meeting Thor's gaze, and froze. Surely those weren't _tears_ swimming in his brilliantly blue eyes?

"Do you remember," Thor said, voice thick and head still stubbornly down, "what she would always say when we would fight?" There was a bitter, ironic smile in Thor's voice. "Sometimes you will grow angry with each other, and there are times when you absolutely must fight it out. But never, _ever_ say cruel things you never mean…."

"…because cruel words hurt far more than any punch," Loki finished with Thor, green eyes bright with embarrassing, unshed tears. Loki chuckled. "And look at us now."

Loki expected to be chastised for that, maybe another few head-slams against the wall. But Thor had no strength left in him. He crumbled to the ground, knees buckling under him.

Looking surprisingly like a child, Thor buried his face in his knees, heavily built frame shaking with overpowering sobs. Loki, after a moment's hesitation, dropped his knees beside Thor, and clumsily rubbed Thor's back in an awkward attempt to soothe him.

Loki called up an illusion of Frigga, standing with a radiant smile on her beautiful face, rich golden hair surrounded by a halo of light. And that was Loki's breaking point.

He bowed his own head and began to sob along with Thor, no longer caring about embarrassing himself or his pride.

He was a student, mourning his instructor. A prince, mourning his Queen. A villain, mourning the woman who offered love he carelessly refused.

But most of all, he was a little boy, mourning his mother.

—


	3. Part I UPDATED!

**_3 Times Loki forgot Wanda was a Kid, and 1 Time He Didn't._**

 **A/N - I'm sorry. I'm not even going to try to excuse myself.**

 **I got writer's block but I had plenty of writing time, which sucked. So after a boring week of no inspirations at all, I just decided to go ahead and start a new fic, as you can see above.**

 **The next update is coming ALOT sooner, I swear. I'm having more fun writing this, in all honesty, but I may come back and finish that other story later.**

 **And on a happier note, THREE MORE DAYS UNTIL INFINITY WAR! I'm going to see it on opening night, and God I'm so excited. And scared.**

 **Hope you enjoy this chapter!**

—

Loki need a distraction.

His thoughts were getting far too near a subject he preferred avoiding, AKA Thor. And it was a subject that tended to get brought up all too easily. His advisors were confused and perhaps a little suspicious of Odin's refusal to speak about his oldest son, but Loki did not want to hear a _word_ about Thor. And generally, Loki got what he wanted.

He had been king of Asgard for _two years._ Two whole uneventful years. In all honesty, Loki expected his ploy to be discovered after six months, tops. But Thor—the only one likely to see through the disguise—was scarcely back on Asgard, and everyone else in the Realms were either dim-witted or too afraid to challenge Loki.

But being king had taken its toll on Loki. No wonder the old man was always so boring and dull and ancient, hell, after another couple of decades _Loki_ would probably be like that.

The thought of Loki not being _Loki_ was, quite frankly, alarming. So after making preparations for a couple of months, Loki had taken a month off, much to his advisors' dismay.

And where should he go? That was the question. Getting drunk in one of the many taverns in Vanaheim and falling into a hotel bed with a pretty young girl was more of Thor's thing. Dancing with death and going on reckless adventures, flirting with the masters of the Dark Arts and jumping carelessly between tears in reality sounded _very_ fun and invigorating, but it was too dangerous. Loki wasn't going to undo two years of hard work in one month of foolhardy stupidity.

Midgard, then, seemed like the next best option. A simple spell kept him from being recognized, and in the beginning he'd wanted to go just because the thought of just being _there,_ in front of the Avengers' noses but unable to be identified was far too amusing for words. But now, Loki had discovered that Midgard was refreshingly amusing and full of the strangest little gadgets and things. He'd manipulated a couple of people and produced wads of fake currency, and it wasn't long before Loki had his own apartment in the state of New York.

It had simply been a week, and Loki was already charmed by this Realm that was considered backward by all the others. The people were _far_ more interesting to talk too, and in Loki's opinion, far more _intelligent_ than most people on Asgard. Asgardians were slow and lazy—they had a millennia ahead of them to evolve and grow. But humans were more brighter and energetic, making more use of eighty years than Asgard in eight hundred.

All in all, Loki began to seriously reconsider which Realm he should be ruling. This planet would be so much more better in so many ways than Asgard was.

But its people were more defiant, too. They had strong wills, a fierce sense of pride and freedom and a fiery spark in them that Loki loved. They would _never_ bend to his rule.

Asgard, though, dulled in comparison. Loki wanted desperately to just hide out here for another century, from Thor, from the Avengers, from Asgard, from Thanos, just enjoying life and taking things easy.

Yet ruling a boring, dreary realm was better than not ruling anything at all. _If not for anything_ , Loki told himself, _keep doing it just for the look on Thor's face when he realizes it was me the whole time._

So Loki made up his mind to enjoy his limited time here as much as possible. And he did, experimenting with 'ice cream' and 'pizza', marveling at the 'iPhones' and shamelessly flirting with every girl he met.

Now, Loki was sitting inside a crisp little coffee shop/bakery, eyes scanning the dainty sets of chairs and tables for a gullible girl to amuse him. The only young female in there was a olive-skinned girl with serious eyes, are fixated on a thick novel that Loki probably would've been found reading. But Loki didn't want to have an intellectual conversation right now, and anyway, he tried to avoid the clever-looking people for fear of being discovered. No, now he needed to flirt and act absolutely charming and ridiculous.

There was a hunched over person who proved to be a girl after a quick glance of her body shape. She was dressed in baggy sweats and an evan baggier sweatshirt with the hood pulled all the way up, staring out the window as though determined to be utterly unnoticeable.

Loki loved a challenge, and he made up his mind that he was going to make her loosen up. He eyed her for a few minutes, and while a waiter was taking her order, Loki stood up with fluid grace and picked his way over to her table.

"…mocha," the girl finished. She was facing away from Loki, so he couldn't make out her features.

Loki blithely stepped around the waiter and slid into the seat across from the girl, not giving her a place but allowing her to size him up. Loki snapped his fingers in front of the startled waiter's face.

"And I'll have whatever the lady's having," he said, voice cultured, smooth and rich with the faintest hint of an accent. For some inexplicable reason, women here loved the sound of his voice, especially when he would murmur in a low, seductive purr with green eyes intense. But Loki played the card multiple times, especially when ordering a lunch, and women came to him like moths to a light.

The waiter looked slightly flustered, but nodded his assent. "Right away, sir," he said, and he hurried away like a frightened rabbit.

Lazily, Loki elegantly arranged his limbs, smoothing down his slicked back hair and drumming his long fingers on the table.

Then, _then_ Loki allowed himself to meet her eyes. She was attractive, he supposed, with sharp cheekbones, eyes the color of the ocean and full red lips. Her edges, though, were softened, giving him an impression of a youthful girl, but the serious, quiet look in her eyes told him this was a girl who had seen far more than anyone her age should have.

All her hair was stuffed into the hood of the sweatshirt, but a stray, mousey brown lock fell over her face. With any other girl, Loki would've tucked it behind her ear as an icebreaker, but he felt that this girl would rather slap him across the face than giggle and blush prettily.

The strangest thing was that she resolutely did not meet his eyes, but stared at an invisible spot on the table dully, like a prisoner stubbornly refusing to answer an interrogator.

Very well, then, Loki could play this game too. He stared directly into her eyes, pinning her down with the weight of his gaze.

Yet the stubborn thing refused to speak. The urge to speak was too much, and Loki admitted defeat when he said, "So, is this a normal occurrence for you? A dashing, hot young man comes to you and tries to talk, and you just say nothing?"

Norns, Loki would be humiliated if she said nothing. But she did.

She let out a dry bark of laughter, still refusing to look at him. "Do not flatter yourself," she informed him in a voice clipped with a lilting, pleasant accent. "You are not dashing, hot, or young. One thousand and twenty eight years is decidedly _not_ young at all."

Loki stiffened instantly. "Wha—" he started, because she had known his _exact age!_ , but she was raising her head and _finally_ met his eyes.

A quick motion threw her hood off, and thick chocolate-colored tresses tumbled out. "Oh yes, I know who you are, Loki," she said with a crooked half-smirk. She sighed. "And here I was hoping for a quiet cup of coffee to myself—but I suppose an Avenger never gets time off."

Loki didn't bother wondering who the hell she was, but instinctively teleported the two of them to a dark alley, quickly casting a spell on all the people in the coffee shop and another spell around the two of them in the alley. There was a hundred percent chance of a battle, and Loki didn't need witnesses to go call the _rest_ of the Avengers.

The spell was quick and very powerful, but Loki was used to teleporting himself at such great speed over such great distances, so he only stumbled a few steps, but the girl had fallen to her knees.

But if she was on the Avengers, Loki knew better than to be chivalrous and fair at the moment. He threw up shields around himself, choosing to wait and see what her fighting ability was rather than to charge with knives and find out the hard way.

Turns out, Loki made the right choice. A few seconds later, she was rising up, blossoming balls of scarlet fire under her feet, causing her to rise.

Well, _shit._ The girl possess telekinesis abilities.

Her blue-green eyes that Loki had considered _pretty_ glowed with a red-hot tinge, and bricks that were lying in the alley were rising up behind her swarmed with the red energy, looking absolutely ridiculous but Loki knew that if she hurled them all at him, well, there goes his shields.

Unfortunately, the girl did, and Loki absorbed the impact as he rolled, instantly rising to his feet. Loki's lips began to move wordlessly to form an incantation, but he knew after he started that there would be no time to finish.

He was floating off the ground, and with a wicked smirk, the girl mercilessly rammed him over and over again against the side of a building, then dropped him.

Delirious though he was, head spinning with body aching like hell, Loki knew better than to land on his feet. Somehow or other, he managed to roll again. This time, however, the rise to his feet was no longer quite as graceful.

She was doing through the mind, Loki managed to think through the hazy cloud that was in his mind. So to defeat her—attack her at a close range. From what he had seen, she had absolutely no hand-to-hand combat ability at all.

The trouble was _getting_ to that close range. She was inexperienced, too, in comparison to Loki's many years of studying the art of fighting. He needed to use that.

With a flick of his wrist, Loki threw a dozen daggers at her head in rapid succession. She would dodge them, but it would take time and effort.

And it did. As quickly as possible, she batted away dagger after dagger, but by then Loki was already inches away from her. While she was distracted, a small knife in her upper arm had her screaming in agony, and a well-placed kick to the back of her knees had her down.

Fiery energy flowed around Loki, swirling around his arms and legs, trapping them in place. Another strand pressed against his mouth, preventing him from casting a spell.

Face contorted with barely suppressed pain, the girl snarled at him, standing up slowly. Loki already knew struggling was futile, so in order to not look like an idiot he remained still. From what he knew, the Avengers were terribly soft-hearted and the chances of this girl killing him were extremely unlikely.

But what she was going to do was far worse.

With steely resolve in her eyes, she tapped his forehead.

And before Loki could think, the two of them tumbled freefall into Loki's memories.

—

~ _A gentle rustling of cool skirts~_

 _~A young boy's voice, "Come on, Loki! Jump, I'll catch you!"_

 _~"Never doubt I love you."~_

 _~"Know your place, brother!"~_

 _~Pain, confusion, betrayal~_

 _~"So I'm no more than a stolen relic?"~_

 _~"I AM NOT YOUR BROTHER!"~_

 _~"No, Loki."~_

 _~Pain, oh god the pain. Blood, so much blood…~_

 _~A green skinned assassin….a hot kiss…~_

 _~"Is this what you want, Loki?"_

 _~"Have I made you proud, mother?"~_

 _~"The words of a single guard, pain and loss…~_

 _~"You must be truly desperate…to come to me for help.~_

 _~"I didn't do it for him."~_

 _~Two monotonous years of ruling…~_

 _~Screams, fire, blood, death~_

~ _Burning fiery pain, the destruction of everything~_

 _~A single name…._ Thanos.~

Loki screamed.

—

"How _dare_ you!" Loki screamed again, tears spilling involuntarily down his cheeks. "You—fucking _witch_!" Voice high, hoarse, and choked with sobs, Loki cursed her in about a dozen different languages, each curse more hideous and obscene than the last.

As for the thrice-damned witch herself, she had a resigned, grief-stricken look on her face, lips half-parted and eyes compassionate. But Loki did not want her compassion, no, he wanted her _death_.

Well, maybe not death, no, Loki would do something _else._

With a wicked, sadistic gleam of satisfaction, Loki stretched his fingers as far as they would go and tapped the witch's forehead.

—

~ _A devastating bomb, reading_ Stark Industries

 _~A young boy—Pietro Maximoff~_

 _~Hunger, thirst, a bitter desire for revenge~_

 _~Pain, so much pain….~_

 _~A small, glass cell~_

 _~A stack of wooden building blocks~_

 _~Vibrant red blossoms of springing from her hand~_

 _~A simple tap into the Avengers' memories~_

 _~An alliance with Ultron quickly falling into ruin~_

 _~"…but if you step out that door, you are an Avenger."~_

 _~Screaming, a pain in the heart so intense it could rip one apart~_

 _~The broken, bullet-ridden body of her brother~_

And this time, Wanda Maximoff screamed.

—

Loki watched her wild eyes open, beads of sweat on her forehead.

And with another scream, scarlet bursts exploded, knocking Loki and Wanda backwards. They tumbled into the ground, lying flat on their backs, catching their breaths.

For about ten minutes, neither of them spoke. They lay together, catching their breaths and trying to recover from that awful ordeal they had to go through just moments before.

Finally, Loki spoke.

"We do not speak of this," he said through gritted teeth. "To _no_ one. And if you say one word to Thor…"

"I won't," the witch swore, "if you keep your part of the deal."

"I will," Loki promised. "….Wanda," he added uncertainly afterwards, sending her a quick sideways glance to see if the first name basis was fine. He hoped it was, because Loki didn't really have a last name he went by. Laufeyson or Odinson were awful surnames and Loki didn't go by either of them.

Silence again. It took another ten minutes before either one of them attempted to struggle to their feet. But they managed it, and soon the two of them were sitting up, leaning against the wall.

"You could use practice," Loki said suddenly, and he could sense Wanda's momentary surprise. "It's true," Loki insisted. "You tend to focus too much on one thing and lose attention of everything else. You also need close combat training. That, paired with your telekinesis, will make you a formidable warrior."

"That all sounds wonderful," said Wanda, tone low, "but I don't exactly know how to do all that. I'm fine."

"I can teach you," suggested Loki unexpectedly, in an attempt to divert their attention from the huge herd of elephants trampling around them. "If you swear to let me sit on the throne of Asgard until I get discovered."

Wanda said nothing, but just hunched over. Loki gave her a poke in the side. "So, are you still with me?" he asked, and then froze.

Her whole frame was shaking, and when Loki gently pulled back the curtain of hair hanging over her face he was alarmed to see she was _crying_.

"Wanda," he said, at a loss for words, and suddenly he realized that she was just _nineteen_ , not even allowed to purchase alcohol for herself.

She was just a _child_.

And she'd just had to experience the pain of losing her twin brother all over again. Loki was not exactly 'comfortable' but used to this emotional pain, as one of Thanos' favorite things to do was toying with Loki's emotional attachments to Frigga, Odin and Thor.

But Wanda had gone through none of that. Telling her 'Suck it up, Buttercup' wasn't going to help, and with a vague sense of horror Loki realized he was going to have to _comfort_ her.

Feelings warring between guilt (she's just a little girl, Loki, why put her through that emotional trauma and rummage through her memories?) and self-justification (She did it first, anyhow, and I didn't _know_ she was just nineteen when I did it), Loki awkwardly scooted closer to her.

Unsure of what to do, Loki squirmed uncomfortably. A hug was a huge _hell no_ but just words wouldn't work, so Loki settled for a gentle pat on the back.

"Er, it's okay, Wanda," he said, lips twisting at the ridiculousness of it. The Silvertongue himself, at a loss for words in the presence of a crying female.

Loki moved his lips to form the words, but they simply wouldn't come out. Loki _hated_ saying this, but he had to make himself do it. _Come on, Loki_.

"I'm…sorry," Loki said at last reluctantly, words ground out all choppy and uneven.

Wanda gave a nervous laugh that bubbled out of her throat. "No, _I'm_ sorry," she said, hastily wiping away at her face. She forced another laugh. "Jeez, look at me, crying like a teenager all over the genocidal maniac who tried to take over the world."

Loki winced at her description of him, and her weak attempt at humor. "It's fine," he said, for lack of better things to say. A pause. "I understand, you know, what it's like." He hesitated. "To lose everything you love."

He chuckled without mirth, the sound bitter and harsh. "Of course, you would know that already," he said without thinking.

Once again, Loki cringed, this time at his poor choice in wording. So did Wanda.

Loki conjured up a wad of tissue and handed it to her, staring at the ground as she wiped her face. He wanted to say something, _anything_ , because words were familiar territory for him. But he understood that _I'm sorry_ or any offer of condolences just made the person feel worse, so he remained silent.

"That's not a bad idea, though," said Wanda abruptly, eyes still red, but otherwise she looked fine. "You, training me." She hesitated. "And yes, I swear I will let you stay on Asgard's throne."

Loki nodded, pleased that he now had something to amuse him. "I'll contact you."

Wanda didn't question it. "Okay."

"Back to the coffee shop for you?" Loki asked, and when Wanda nodded, he flicked his wrist and she disappeared from sight.

When Wanda left, Loki rubbed his hands together in glee. He had a _lot_ of planning to do.


End file.
